


Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home)

by sharinganswirl



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: All I want for Christmas is you, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Christmas, Eggnog and Brandy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everything Christmas, Explicit Sexual Content, Ice Skating, M/M, Minor Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Minor Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Mistletoe, My First Fanfic, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Steve Needs a Hug, Steve has some serious making up to do, Tony Needs a Hug, unhealthy 80's movies addictions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-10 11:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12910896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharinganswirl/pseuds/sharinganswirl
Summary: For the first time in years, Tony was alone for Christmas. Well, mostly alone. Rhodey was with him. In truth, he had been so focused on helping Rhodey walk again, he’d forgotten all about Christmas. That wouldn’t have happened if Steve were home. No. Steve would have dragged him out of his workshop to find some godforsaken tree in some godforsaken lot to carry home in the bitter cold. And while Tony would complain, secretly he'd love every moment of it. He’d take any chance he could get to ogle Steve’s muscles as he carried the tree home.But after Siberia, after Steve had left him there, Tony realized that somewhere between saving the world and decorating the Christmas tree, he had fallen in love with Steve. It tore him apart, watching Steve raise that shield overhead again and again in his nightmares. He doubted he’d ever see those pretty blue eyes light up again at the sight of the Rockefeller Christmas Tree. Those moments were gone, already a faded memory, tarnished by everything that had happened. He knew he needed to let it all go. And yet. He ached. He wanted Steve to come home, he wanted all of them, his family, to come home, but like hell would he admit it.But what if Steve did come home?





	1. Eggnog and Brandy

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Um, I'm new here though not new to writing fanfic or writing in general... :) I'm not going to apologize for this story, though maybe I should. Christmas time just brings out all the angst in me. There's gonna be feels. There's gonna be heartache. I write slow burners, and I can tell you this is gonna be a doozy. 
> 
> Some things to note:  
> 1) This is un-beta'd, so all mistakes are definitely mine. I'd love to have a beta reader, mostly for continuity errors and minor typos. If you're interested, find me on tumblr: sharinganswirl (it's brand new, but it's there!)  
> 2) There's a lot of "info dumping" in this chapter.... I'm sorry. I tried to limit it. It does pick up a little more after this chapter though.  
> 3) This will be alternating POV's - Tony's and Steve's only. I'll make sure to note them.  
> 4) I have about 15K written so far. I'm aiming for 60K, possibly more. I hope to get this done by Christmas. I hope.
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! I hope you all enjoy! xoxo

Tony hadn’t planned on having a meltdown that night. Not that he would call it a meltdown, necessarily. Though he could understand why others might. Still. Rhodey had convinced Tony to take the suit out for a spin, for “fresh air” he had said, though that was ridiculous. The mansion had plenty of fresh air due to his state of the art air ventilation system. That he designed himself, thank you very much. But, rather than argue with Rhodey, who was still very much recovering, Tony had donned his latest design and shot up out of the mansion through the passage way he had punched through each floor above his workshop.

He had to admit, Rhodey had been right for all of two seconds. The initial take off in the suit had been exhilarating, a thrill he had forgotten in the midst of everything. Then Tony caught sight of the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree and all of the decorations the city of New York had rolled out in time for the holidays.

Pain sliced deep in Tony’s chest, making him short of breath and all he could think was that Steve wouldn’t be here for Christmas. Tony hightailed it back to his work-in-progress workshop in the basement, locked Rhodey out and blasted Dire Straits while he pounded the whiskey and pretended to be working on upgrades to his suit.

It had been six months since Steve and Barnes had left Tony laid out on the icy ground in his broken suit. For the first time, his suit had become a cage, pinning him down though he desperately wanted to keep fighting, not caring that they were two super-soldiers against a normal-strength human being in a suit of metal. When they had finally left, Tony had remained there, stuck, helpless, refusing to let the tears burning in his eyes to fall down the sides of his face. They fell anyway, but nobody except FRIDAY knew that. Help had eventually come in the form of the U.S. Air Force, courtesy of Pepper and Rhodey, but the damage had been done. 

For weeks, every time Tony had closed his eyes, he had felt trapped within that suit once again, forced to see Steve’s beautiful, perfect face crumpled in heartbreak and desperation, and Barnes’ eyes widened with fear. Tony had solved that problem by simply refusing to sleep, instead pouring all his anger and frustration, his pain, into a cure for Rhodey’s paralysis. 

Because Tony could do at least that much for his only friend.

Seeing the city come alive for Christmas had hurt deeper than Tony could have imagined. His whole life, his parents had only celebrated Christmas as was customary for the New York Elite: lavish parties where they stayed out too late and sent Tony to bed early, their butler Jarvis looking after him. Christmas Eves weren’t spent with his parents, no. They were spent with Jarvis making hot chocolate in the kitchen, sometimes eggnog with brandy if Tony turned on the charm. It wasn’t until Tony was much older that he realized Jarvis had taken it upon himself to make sure Tony had good memories of Christmas. Tony ached to have his old friend with him once again. 

The last couple of Christmases had been… perfect. All of the Avengers had their own traditions, which they had mish-mashed together into a giant celebration that had exceeded any of Tony’s childhood dreams. It had started with Steve hauling a tree up into the common room and stringing popcorn on it, saying he had always wanted one. Romanoff and Clint had hung mistletoe around the Tower, snickering whenever their colleagues were caught beneath them. Then Tony had offered to warm some brandy and eggnog, to which everybody accepted, even Steve, filling a place deep within Tony with a strange buzz of… something.

He wouldn’t have any of that this year.

He supposed he should be lucky he had even one friend this Christmas. Even after endangering Rhodey’s life, Rhodey had simply smiled and reassured Tony that he had done the right thing, despite what the rest of the Avengers thought. Rhodey had told him that Tony had the biggest heart of them all, and the fact that he would willingly sign those Accords, when Tony had always believed himself to be above any rules and regulations, spoke of just how important the safety of others was to him.

After the events in Siberia, Tony couldn’t bear to stay in his empty Tower. Too many memories. The common room seemed cold and dark, the kitchen quiet when it had once been bustling with activity. He could practically see Steve’s tall, broad figure out of the corner of his eye at every moment, his mind filling in the blanks of what should be there. He hadn’t lasted a full twenty-four hours after he had been discharged from the hospital before he had called Happy and began the process of moving back into his family estate over on 5th Avenue. 

If he was going to be miserable, he could do it in a miserable place.

He’s pretty sure Pepper would have had something to say about that. But she wasn’t here.

As though on cue, the door to his workshop flung open and the music halted right in the middle of a killer guitar solo. 

“Hey, hey, hey! What gives?” Tony snapped, tearing himself from his morose thoughts and looking to the door. His heart lurched into his throat before he realized Pepper was waist deep in legalities on the West Coast and it couldn’t possibly be her or, maybe, Steve walking through the door. 

“Man, I'll give you somethin',” came Rhodey’s snarky response as he rolled through the door. While Tony had invented groundbreaking, and highly experimental, exo-skeletal tech to help Rhodey walk again, Rhodey preferred to rest during the evenings in his chair. Tony could tell that the chair frustrated him, though it beat the pain at the end of the day. Besides, Rhodey milked every chance he had to make Tony fetch him things. Tony would play along because it made him feel better.

“How did you override FRIDAY?” Tony asked, narrowing his eyes. Then he lifted a finger, halting any response Rhodey may have had. “More importantly, how did any of you guys override FRIDAY or JARVIS? I never did get a clear answer on that.”

Rhodey rolled to a stop and crossed his arms across his chest, looking intimidating despite the height disadvantage. 

“Like I’m gonna tell you. What happened? I thought you were going for a ride. Then I get a message from FRIDAY that you’re in your workshop, blowing things up.” 

“I didn’t –” Tony ran a hand through his hair. He had sent off a repulsor blast when he had landed in a fit of rage. DUM-E had been on the case immediately, dousing the correct area with fire extinguisher for once. Tony had teared up at the sight before sniffing it all back and stripping himself of the armor. “It was nothing.”

Rhodey eyed the mess over by the landing pad. “Uh huh. Nothing. Right.” Then he uncrossed his arms and rolled himself forward, closer to where Tony was perched on a stool at the lab bench. “What happened?”

Tony gave a sharp exhale. He knew he was behaving like a child and that Rhodey didn’t have to put up with his bullshit. But here he was, being a bro and Tony found himself hard pressed not to share exactly what happened. 

“It’s really nothing. The ‘fresh air’… didn’t work out,” Tony said with a shrug. 

Rhodey frowned. “Shit. Was it the suit? I didn’t even think about –” 

“No, no.” Tony shook his head, waving a hand in the air. “The suit was fine. Magical even. I impressed myself with this one,” he grinned at Rhodey, though he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. Still, Rhodey played along and gave him a smirk and a shake of the head. 

“That’s not surprising,” Rhodey said. Then drilled Tony with his official I’m-the-Stark-Air-Force-Liaison, don’t-bullshit-me look. “Spill, Tones.”

Tony winced and sucked in a breath, the ache already returning, right behind where his arc reactor used to be. “It’s Christmas.”

“Yeah. And?” Rhodey said, as though waiting for an explanation. Then he blinked, his face dropping open in understanding. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.” Tony rubbed a hand against the scarring on his chest. Sometimes he missed the reactor, though he was glad it and the shrapnel were gone. “It’s fine.”

“Tony –” Rhodey began. 

“It’s fine,” Tony interrupted, giving Rhodey a sharp look. Then he sighed. “Just drop it, okay? Really, it’s nothing.”

Silence stretched between them before Rhodey sighed and nodded. “I get it. I do. But,” Rhodey lifted his hands when Tony gave him a warning glare, “talk to me if you want to later?” 

Tony hesitated. He really didn’t think it was fair to burden Rhodey with his own problems. Rhodey had to deal with enough, losing the lower half of his body and then learning how to walk all over again. Rhodey had lost his team, too, and seemed to be dealing with it just fine. Why couldn’t Tony just suck it up and move on like Rhodey had?

In the end, Tony gave a small nod, though they both knew he was lying. 

“Seriously, how’d you get in here?” Tony asked, not caring if Rhodey knew he was deflecting. 

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Not telling you. It’s for your own good and you know it.” 

Tony snorted. “FRIDAY, tell me your secrets, baby.”

“I’m afraid I cannot, sir. It’s classified.” 

Tony’s jaw dropped as Rhodey guffawed loudly. 

“That hurts, FRIDAY. And you, Rhodey. I expected better behavior from all of you. You’re all grounded.” 

Rhodey’s laughter grew as he patted the arm of his wheel chair. “Can’t get much worse than this, Tones.” 

Tony grinned, glad Rhodey could now joke about his injury, as serious as it was. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, and while things would never be the way they had been before, Tony had been able to give Rhodey a chance at a life outside of the chair. And with more research, Tony was hoping to open a medical division of Stark Industries. He had yet to talk to Pepper about it, but knowing her, she was already starting the legwork.

“Come upstairs. We’ll order Chinese and watch one of your terrible eighties movies,” Rhodey suggested, already turning his chair around and heading toward the elevator Tony had installed before Rhodey had moved in.

“So pushy,” Tony muttered, following Rhodey’s lead. “FRIDAY, save and shut down, please.” 

“Of course, sir.” 

“They’re not terrible,” Tony said as the elevator doors shut behind them. He hit the button for the main floor. “They’re classic. Even Steve –” He cut himself off, cleared his throat. 

It didn’t matter that Steve had loved his eighties movie collection.

The door to the elevator swooshed open before Rhodey could say anything. It was a bit eccentric to have elevators installed in the mansion, but between Rhodey’s condition and Tony being tired of climbing up and down three flights of stairs every time he wanted to go to his workshop, it was more than worth it. And really, it hadn’t been that difficult to install. The space was already there in the form of a very antiquated dumbwaiter situated at the end of the hallway on each floor. It was a match made in heaven.

Tony rushed out, heading toward the kitchen. He pulled out his cell phone. FRIDAY had taken to botching his take-out orders if they became too frequent lately. He needed to look into her programming. Taking the Chinese take-out menu down from the side of the refrigerator, Tony eyed the miniature Iron Man magnet. He wasn’t vain. It had been a gag gift. From Steve. He had tried to throw it away a hundred times, and it still ended up on the side of the fridge.

“The usual, honey?” Tony asked. 

“Yeah, sure,” Rhodey said on a sigh. Tony could hear the frustration in his voice, though he knew it wasn’t aimed at him. Well, not directly. “I’m gonna go cue up the movie. Any requests?”

“ _Beastmaster_ , duh.”

Rhodey gave a good natured groan as he rolled off into the old, boring living room. Unwittingly, Tony’s mind wandered back to the TV room in the Tower, which had once just been a clinically stylish living room nobody had used until Clint had shoehorned in a couple of old recliners with cup holders. They were the ugliest pieces of furniture Tony had ever seen, but arguably the most popular among the team. Even Tony had begrudgingly admitted how comfortable they were after most of the Avengers caught him taking a cat nap in one of them after a three-day binge in his workshop. Taking his cue from the rest of the team, Tony hauled out the overpriced, leather furniture and replaced them with overstuffed, sink-til-you-hit-the-ground couches with terrible patterns that clashed horribly with each other. He had also mounted a seventy-two inch TV to the wall, which had Steve’s eyes widening in awe. It had turned into their haven, a place they could go and forget the rest of the world they had been tasked with saving.

Tony missed it.

Pushing it aside with a shake of his head, Tony called in their order, making sure to add an extra side of pot stickers. He didn’t want to have to kill Rhodey tonight.

Their food arrived shortly after the movie started and they spread the feast out on the coffee table. That was another new purchase Tony had made when they moved in. The top of the coffee table lifted up and forward into their laps, making life for Rhodey in his chair that much easier. When Tony had first demonstrated it, Rhodey had grown quiet before turning around and hightailing it out of the living room. Hours later, Rhodey found Tony in his workshop and said a simple “thank you.” It was then that Tony realized that Rhodey hadn’t been upset at all by the table. He had been _overwhelmed_.

It wasn’t long before Tony was dozing on the couch, not even close to being as comfy as those recliners, coming down off his slight buzz from the whisky beforehand and all the MSG. 

“Man, I forgot how this guy is practically naked the entire movie,” Rhodey whined, leaning his chair back.

“Isn’t it great?” Tony sighed with a wistful grin. 

“Psh, now I see why you were trying to get Cap to wear an even tighter suit. Or trying to convince Thor to go without his armor.”

Suddenly wide awake, Tony pushed himself into an upright position. Unease curled in his belly. “Can we not?”

There was a pause, and then, “How serious was it?” Rhodey asked, his voice calm and quiet. 

Tony didn’t have to ask to know what Rhodey was talking about. Rhodey was smart and observant. He couldn’t have gotten as far as he had in the Air Force, let alone the Avengers, without being both of those things. And while Tony knew he could get up and leave, and Rhodey wouldn’t say anything, something in Tony simply snapped, gave up. He trusted Rhodey with his life. And he was tired of having to hide, especially from his best friend.

The movie played on as Tony sighed and rubbed his hands over his face and hair. He tugged on the long strands, murmuring a quick note to FRIDAY to schedule a haircut for some time tomorrow. Then he turned his attention to Rhodey.

“Nothing happened,” Tony said with a shrug. “Did I want something to happen with Steve? Yeah. I didn’t even know what it was at first. Passed it off as some demented form of hero worship from those old stories my father used to blather on about. Then I got to know him. And fuck, Rhodes. One day, he was just Steve. And the next…” He squeezed his eyes shut and cleared his throat. “Pepper knew.”

Rhodey was silent for a moment. “Is that why…?” The question drifted off as Tony nodded, still not opening his eyes. He couldn’t help but remember the heartbreaking look Pepper had given him as she kissed him good-bye the last time. “Tones, that was two years ago.” 

Tony swallowed hard and nodded again. 

“I’m sorry.” Tony’s eyes blinked open, surprised by the genuine sadness he heard in Rhodey’s voice. Rhodey’s face crumpled, still staring at Tony. Surprise helped clear Tony’s head enough to know he better turn the conversation back to steady ground before they both started weeping into each other’s arms and watching _Gilmore Girls_. 

“It’s fine, all water under the bridge now,” Tony said. His voice came out strained, not at all lighthearted like he had been going for. 

Rhodey was already shaking his head. “No, it’s not. Tony, you’ve never held a torch for somebody this long before. That’s gotta mean something.”

“Yeah, well, even if it did, it’s already over, isn’t it?” Tony snapped. This winced. “Sorry. I just can’t, okay?” 

Rhodey nodded. “Okay, okay. Thanks for telling me. And for what it’s worth, Steve’s a dick. Always has been.” 

That startled a laugh out of Tony. It was so far from the truth that it was shocking to hear anybody say it aloud. 

“I appreciate it, buddy, but you don’t have to lie. Want my last pot sticker?” 

Rhodey held out a hand. “You holding out on me, old man? What’s wrong with you?” 

Tony laughed as he passed over the carton.


	2. Roasted Chestnuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What have Steve and Bucky been up to lately?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this up yesterday, but didn't. I'm hoping to start putting chapters up at a much quicker pace... I'm going to have to if I want to get this thing done by Christmas. (Ha!) 
> 
> Again - I should probably apologize for some of this. But I won't. :) And all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve POV

***

The shrill sound of the phone ringing startled Steve from the light sleep he had finally managed to force himself into. He bit back a curse, knowing it wouldn’t help matters, before he reached for the phone on his nightstand. He never received phone calls in the middle of the night anymore, not since... well. But with the progress T’Challa’s medical team had been making on Bucky’s condition, Steve had sort of been expecting this. Hopefully, there’d be some good news.

“Hello?” he answered, voice rough from sleep. He cleared it discretely. 

“Cap.” The word dripped with distain.

Steve straightened, surprise shooting down his spine, waking him up more than the strongest cup of coffee ever could. 

“Colonel Rhodes.” Steve’s voice sounded terrible even to his own ears. Hope, sadness, worry, all of it a tangled mess. Something must have happened to Tony. It had been six months since he had sent Tony the phone and, in all that time, Tony hadn’t called. Not once. Rhodes had every reason to hate him, for hurting his best friend, for he himself being injured during their stupid fight at the airport. He had heard through the grapevine that Rhodes had ended up paralyzed from the waist down. So, why was he reaching out? Before he could open his mouth to ask, Rhodes ploughed on.

“Before you say anything, I want you to know that I didn’t want to call you. That I don’t think you of all people deserve shit from us. Not after what you did to Tony.” 

Steve shut his eyes on a wince, his chest tightening. Even after everything Steve had done to Rhodes, Rhodes still put Tony first. He was a much better friend than Steve had ever been.

“Is he alright?” Steve forced the question out through his constricting throat. 

“He’s not injured, if that’s what you’re asking,” Rhodes said, his voice like acid. “Though he’s been better.”

Steve waited, not knowing what he could or even should say to Rhodes. He knew there was no amount of apologizing that he could do to either him or Tony that would atone for his transgressions. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t try. He had sent that phone to Tony as a peace offering, a message that they should communicate, but only when Tony was ready. Whether or not if Tony was ready remained to be seen. 

“What can I do?” Steve asked when the silence stretched into the minute mark. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Rhodey muttered under his breath. By all accounts, Steve shouldn’t have been able to hear it, but the serum took care of that problem. “I’m inviting you and the rest of your Avengers, including the Winter Soldier, to Stark Mansion for Christmas.”

Steve would have been less shocked if he had woken up in 1943 to find out all of this had been a nightmare. One long, drawn out nightmare. Hell, everything he had learned so far in the twenty-first century, including the invention of computers and the internet, was less shocking than this. 

“Uh, I can’t, Rhodes. You know that. Buck and I are fugitives.” 

“What the U.N. don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” Rhodes said, as though it really were that simple. 

“Rhodes –” 

“You think we don’t know you’re in Wakanda? That was the very first thing Tony did when he got your oh-so-special present. He found you within twenty minutes. It was child’s play for him, Steve. But he didn’t tell anybody, not even me until I swore not to alert my superior officers. And believe me, it’s been all I could do sometimes to not let that little secret slip.”

Steve gripped the phone tighter until it creaked in warning. Of course he knew Tony might try and use the phone to find him. Bucky and he had fought about it right up until the moment Steve sent the package and T'Challa's team put him back to sleep. But over the last few months, Steve had been led into a false sense of security when nobody came for him.

He should have known better. 

Rhodes sighed over the line. “Listen. I know how you feel.” 

Steve frowned. “Oh, really?” 

“Yeah, I do. You’d do anything for Barnes. Even cut off your own left arm and give it to him to use if you could. I know this because I would do the same for Tony. He’s my brother, just like Barnes is yours.

“But what you’ve failed to realize," he continued, "is that Tony thinks of you as something much more than that. Even now, after everything. And it’s killing him.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. The sound of his heart began to pound in his ears. 

That couldn’t mean what he desperately wanted it to mean. Rhodes probably meant Tony viewed him as the hero his father had worshiped all those years ago. As much as Steve loathed to admit it.

“I’ll have to talk to the others,” Steve hedged after getting his wild emotions under control. 

“Sure. Call me when you have an answer and I’ll arrange things on this side.” Rhodes sounded like he’d rather do anything else. 

“Why are you doing this?” Steve asked. “Does Tony know?”

“Of course not,” Rhodes said. “He’d kill me. He probably will kill me when you show up. But I know he needs you guys, and you probably need him, too, as stubborn as all of you are at admitting it. Think about it.” The line went dead.

Steve snapped the flip phone shut and tossed it onto the bed before burying his face in his hands. This hadn’t quite been what he had expected when he sent Tony the phone. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

Bucky was going to kill him. 

Steve knew he had been wrong to keep the circumstances surrounding Tony’s parents' death a secret. And he could wrap himself up in the excuse that he just wanted to protect Tony from the pain, but that was all it was. A poor excuse. Tony was an adult and could handle it. He didn’t need to be coddled. Instead, Steve’s actions had been the cherry on top of an already tumultuous situation. After HYDRA’s infiltration of SHIELD, Steve knew he might never trust any governing body ever again. Everything he had once believed and held true had been viciously ripped from him, opening his eyes to just how different the 21st century was from what he had grown up with. But nobody wanted to hear him whining about that. Not even Bucky.

Not for the first time, Steve marveled at the fact that for once Tony had been the one to want to follow the rules, to agree with what any higher-ups had to say. Steve remembered the frustration that had burned through him. He had wanted Tony to see things his way, and Tony had been as stubborn as ever. But Tony’s readiness to submit, to acquiesce and sign the Accords gave Steve pause even after all this time. He couldn’t help but question if he had been wrong. And it was driving him crazy sitting and reflecting on everything that had happened while T’Challa and his team worked to help Bucky.

Steve let out a burst of air and stood from the bed. Filled with a buzzing energy, Steve knew he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep anytime soon. 

Time to visit the gym, woefully ill-equipped to deal with his super-strength as it was. 

As Steve dressed in his workout clothes, a thought occurred to him. He strode back to the bed and picked up the cell phone, navigating to the call history menu he had discovered by accident one day. That was usually how he learned new things, by stumbling upon them. 

The number for the phone Steve had given Tony was at the top of the list. Which meant Rhodes had taken Tony’s phone to call him. Steve wondered if Tony would even notice. 

Rhodes had made it clear that Tony would be upset with his appearance for Christmas. But Rhodes also made it clear that it needed to happen. Steve’s gesture of sending Tony a phone hadn’t been enough. That was clear by the fact that Tony hadn’t even bothered to reach out. 

_Enough._

Steve was going on hour three in the gym, almost done with an hour on the treadmill, when the doors swished open and T’Challa entered. Steve hit the stop button on his machine. He grabbed his water bottle and towel as the machine slowed, wiping his forehead though he had barely begun to break a sweat. 

“Steven,” T’Challa greeted with a nod. Though T’Challa had granted them asylum and had been kind to Steve since he and his team had arrived, T’Challa remained guarded toward them. Steve especially. Steve tried not to take it personally. He knew the young king was looking out for the wellbeing of his people first and foremost. There may be plenty of holes in his modern popular culture education, but Steve was familiar with the concept of, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” 

“Morning,” Steve said, stepping off the machine. 

“You have been here for a while,” T’Challa said. It unnerved Steve that T’Challa always knew his whereabouts. Tony had done the same, but never bothered him back then. “Trouble sleeping?”

Steve shrugged. “You could say that.” Steve knew he’d have to talk to T’Challa about leaving, but he’d cross that bridge when he got there. No sense in ruffling feathers if he wasn’t even sure he would be going yet. “What can I do for you?”

“We are prepared to wake The Winter Soldier and do the preliminary work.”

Steve’s stomach clenched with nervous excitement. They had only woken Bucky up one other time in the last six months, certain that their findings would be successful in helping Bucky erase his programming. It had failed, catastrophically so. Steve should have been grateful T’Challa hadn’t thrown them both out in the aftermath. 

“I’ll be down there as quick as I can,” Steve said, already striding across the gym toward the elevator doors. 

“Steven,” T’Challa called after him. Steve turned. “We don’t know who we will be waking up. Be prepared.” 

Steve nodded, cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach. He would do whatever it took to get his best friend back, including incapacitating him if necessary. 

After a shower and a fresh change of clothes, Steve met T’Challa and his team of research scientists in the medical facility a few floors down from the gym. Steve had trouble identifying floor numbers, as T’Challa’s palace wasn’t a high-rise like Avengers Tower had been. Instead, the king’s dwellings were hidden below ground, peaking out through the cliff beneath a massive waterfall. Steve loved it, feeling as though he were living out part of Tolkien’s _The Lord of the Rings_. He had loved _The Hobbit_ when it had been published, and still had yet to read _The Lord of the Rings_ , though that didn't stop Tony from showing him the movies.

Steve pushed those thoughts aside as he joined T’Challa and the team. They walked him through their plans, including keeping Bucky restrained during the process. Most of the science was lost on Steve, but he could tell they believed in what they were trying to do and that was good enough for him. They directed him toward Bucky’s chamber, which had been reinforced to withstand super-soldier strength over the last few months, thanks in part to Steve’s cooperation. He had no doubts that T’Challa could and maybe would use that information against him and Bucky one day, but Bucky’s life and the lives of the innocents that were working to help them mattered too much to care about that.

“Ready, Steven?” T’Challa asked, coming to stand on Steve’s left. 

Steve took a steadying breath and nodded. 

T’Challa gave the go-ahead, and they watched as Bucky was slowly brought out of cryogenic sleep. The glass around Bucky thawed first, revealing Bucky’s full body, clothed in black, left arm missing. T’Challa assured Steve they were working on a replacement, but it may not be ready for some time. Steve had nodded in understanding, finding himself wishing that things had worked out long enough with Tony for him to help with Bucky’s arm. But that was a very selfish way of thinking, and Steve and Bucky didn’t exactly have a lot of choices. 

He should be grateful that Bucky was even alive.

Bucky woke quickly once the thawing process was complete. Those icy blue eyes locked onto Steve’s and glared. 

Steve’s heart sank. 

“Come on, Buck. I know you’re in there,” Steve murmured, barely loud enough for him and Bucky to hear. 

The scientists scurried around the container, monitoring vital signs and prepping for their procedure. Bucky grew more agitated, yanking at the strap that held him and his right hand down and tied his feet together. Growling, Bucky twisted, pinning Steve with his hateful stare over and over. 

This had happened the last time, too, right after the scientists had executed their plan. Instead of a cured Bucky, they had met the Winter Soldier right before he burst clean out of the container and killed two scientists. Steve had ultimately been the one to take him down and tranquilized him. 

The Winter Soldier wasn’t Steve’s best friend.

Steve held his breath as the scientists stilled, calling out numbers and readings to each other that meant nothing to him. Then the head scientist nodded toward T’Challa and Steve. 

And it began. 

They pumped the tube with an experimental hallucinogen, that much Steve understood. Then they systematically chanted words over and over to The Winter Soldier as he writhed and shuddered. At one particularly horrifying, pain filled scream, Steve stepped forward, only to have T’Challa’s strong hand land on his shoulder and hold him back. 

“Stay strong,” he said, his voice low. 

Thankfully, the torture was short lived. Bucky slumped in his restraints, panting and crying. 

Then Steve heard it. 

“Stevie, please, God.”

Steve rushed to the glass before T’Challa or any of the scientists could stop him, his heart racing harder than it had since he had crashed the Valkyrie into the Atlantic.

“I’m here, Buck.” Steve reached a hand out and placed it palm flat against the glass. “Just hang on. You’re doing good, buddy.”

“Mr. Rogers.” The head scientist made his way over to Steve. Steve offered him a weak, relieved smile. “We’ve got Mr. Barnes back, it seems. Now, we have to initiate phase two, just to make sure he is truly cured.” The man paused, offering Steve a compassionate look. “Be prepared.”

Steve nodded, knowing that the chances were high that Bucky’s programming was rooted too deep and when the scientists uttered those horrifyingly ordinary Russian words, Bucky would cease to exist once again. 

“Buck, look at me.” Steve tapped the glass, and Bucky raised his head. Tears streamed down his cheeks, eyes once filled with hatred now reddened with exhaustion. “You’re almost done. Just try to hang on. I know you can do it, soldier.” He purposefully put his Captain America voice back on, though it felt so foreign. He had abandoned the persona when he had dropped the shield back in Siberia. After all, it all belonged to Stark, didn’t it? 

It did the trick, though. Bucky simply nodded his head, his eyes growing fierce with determination. “Sir,” he muttered. It took everything Steve had not to grin like a fool. He turned to the head scientist and nodded once again. 

Bucky flinched at the first word, his eye contact with Steve never failing. “No,” he whispered, panic filling his face. He tensed against his restrains, pleading with Steve. “Please, don’t do this.” 

Steve didn’t say anything, though he desperately wanted to. The scientists were adamant that nobody speak during this part of the process. Instead, Steve pressed his hand firmer against the glass, keeping his eyes glued to Bucky, conveying with every thought he had that Bucky could do this. That Steve believed in him.

The scientist read the words, calmly, clearly, so slowly that Steve wanted to strangle him. But with each word, the panic in Bucky’s eyes receded, replaced by a fragile hope, that maybe this would be it. Maybe he was cured. 

The last word echoed in the room and stillness fell around them. Steve held his breath. Then Bucky smirked. 

“’Bout time,” he drawled, his Brooklyn accent strong. It sounded like home to Steve. 

Steve slumped, tears rising to his eyes in relief. He laughed, moving aside as the scientists cheered and opened the cryogenic tube, releasing Bucky of his restraints. 

Bucky practically tackled Steve to the ground. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s huge body, burying his face in Bucky’s neck. He allowed himself a moment to let the emotions swarm him, content that Bucky would protect him enough for that. Bucky rubbed his hand up and down Steve’s back, quietly giving him shit for being such a baby and making Steve laugh wetly into his shoulder. They both knew they were the lucky ones, nobody could refute that. But with so much thrown their way, humor was often the only way they could process and deal with everything.

“It’s good to have you back, Buck,” Steve said, finally composing himself and pulling away. 

“Yes, welcome back,” T’Challa said, coming up behind Steve. Steve stiffened. It was rare when somebody could sneak up on him. But, like his namesake, the Black Panther could be as quiet as a cat when he wanted to be. 

“Thank you,” Bucky said, his voice somber and full of meaning. He bowed to T’Challa respectfully before raising his head and looking around to the team of scientist. “All of you.” 

Some of the scientists were grinning with the adrenaline of success. Some looked more guarded, as though afraid the Winter Soldier would come back at any moment. And still more looked… angry. Hurt. They had lost colleagues by helping a known fugitive. No doubt they were questioning their king’s judgement and wondering what was so important about this man to put their people at risk. 

Steve bit his tongue. He needed to talk to Bucky.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s get you cleaned up and settled. You’re probably hungry.” Steve rested a hand on Bucky’s back, guiding him away from all the eyes watching them. 

“Mr. Barnes,” T’Challa started, stepping forward. Steve could feel Bucky tense under his hand, though he gave no outward sign of it, all easy smiles and kind eyes. Interesting. 

“Yes, sir?” Bucky asked. 

“When you’ve rested, we would like to perform a few more tests so we may continue to work on your arm.” T’Challa looked to the head scientist, who nodded emphatically. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, giving them another quick upturn of his lips. “That sounds good.”

Steve practically shoved Bucky off the floor as quickly as he could. They didn’t say a word in the elevator back down to Steve’s rooms. The moment Steve’s door closed behind them, Bucky whirled around, eyes wide, concern pulling his face tight. 

“What the hell, Stevie? What’s going on?” he demanded. 

“Sorry,” Steve said, running his hands over his face and hair again, disrupting the careful neatness he strove for. “I just can’t believe you’re back. I’m a little excited.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion clear, and placed his hand on his hip. Before, he would have crossed his arms over his chest, and it killed Steve all over again that his friend was without his arm. “Alright. Spill.”

Steve wasn’t a fool. If T’Challa had any ill intentions or suspected the slightest thing from the two of them, there was no doubt he would be monitoring Steve’s rooms. But he couldn’t exactly ask Bucky to leave the compound with him either. 

So, he fell back on an old code they had used during the war. 

“I wanted to show you this book I’m reading, maybe you’d like to catch up on it after your shower,” Steve said, making no moves to gather any sort of book. He stood stock still, staring at Bucky. 

Bucky snapped to attention, dropping his hand. He began to turn his head, ready to inspect the room, but Steve gave a subtle shake. They were probably being watched. 

Steve finally moved to his nightstand, picking up an old paperback. It was Vonnegut, but that didn’t matter. The phrase that begun their code had always been “I wanted to show you this book I’m reading.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky said, feigning interest as he stepped over to Steve and took the book. He pretended to leaf through it. “What’s it about?”

Translation: “What do you need to tell me?”

Their code was based on a game of opposites, masked under the guise of talking about a book. The way they differentiated between what was true or false was the direction they were looking at key moments. That way, anybody listening in couldn’t fully decipher what was being communicated. But that had been back during the time of radio. With security cameras everywhere, Steve wasn’t sure how quickly T’Challa and his people would figure out what they were discussing. But they had managed to confuse the hell out of the Commandos back then, so maybe they stood a chance.

“It’s about a British kid who was found months after a skirmish with the enemy, his memories gone.” Steve looked left at “British,” right at “skirmish,” and left at “the enemy, his memories gone.” He hoped Bucky figured out he was talking about himself and that he had received communication.

“Who found him?” Bucky’s eyes narrowed further. “I hope it wasn’t Ares or something equally ridiculous.” Bucky looked right at “Ares.” Steve grinned. “The god of war.” He wondered how Tony would feel about them calling him that. Bucky was quick.

“Close, Ares’ rival and enemy.” Steve looked left. 

Bucky goggled. “Why would Ares’ enemy want anything to do with a no-name British boy?”

Steve glared half-heartedly before continuing. “He wants to prevent the kid from safely going home for the holidays. But all the kid wants to do is see his family.” Steve looked left at “prevent.”

“His whole family?” Bucky asked. 

Steve nodded. 

“What’s stopping the kid, other than Ares’ enemy?” Bucky asked. 

“Oh, the usual trials and tribulations for a hero, of course,” Steve said. There was no question what he was referring to. 

Bucky looked to his empty left shoulder. Then shrugged and gave Steve a grin. 

“Sure, I’d love to read it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry if that coded conversation was confusing... (I really need a beta reader...)
> 
> (And maybe I didn't need to make it a coded message... but I kind of have some half-baked plans for T'Challa. And it was kind of fun to do anyway.)
> 
> Basically, Steve was letting Bucky know that Rhodey had contacted "Captain America" (British boy) to invite him home but there were some stumbling blocks along the way, like the fact that Tony may not even want them there and that they are wanted fugitives. Ares (The god of war) is supposed to mean Tony in this case. In the end, Bucky understands the risks but also understands that Steve wants to go home for Christmas and ultimately agrees to "read the book" (go home with him).


	3. Homemade Pumpkin Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers come home. And so do Steve and Bucky. Tony has a lot of feels about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you already, I know. :) Those kudos and comments work magic. I'm so glad so many of you are looking forward to this story. It's really making me want to pump it out faster.
> 
> I added a chapter note to the end of chapter 2 to help clarify that weird coded conversation Steve and Bucky were having. Again - I need a beta. Sorry for the confusion and I will revise it soon.
> 
> But in the meantime... Here's the chapter you guys have been waiting for! (And yes, like most of you, bearded Steve totally does it for me.)
> 
> And as usual, all mistakes are mine. :) Thanks for being awesome about it.

Tony POV   
*** 

“Sir, you have guests,” FRIDAY announced. Elbow deep in new schematics for the Mark XLIX, Tony grunted and brushed it off. 

After Steve and Barnes destroyed the Mark XLVI, Tony had quickly moved on to the Mark XLVII and hadn’t stopped. He had upgraded the titanium alloy to include a higher percentage of vibranium to be a more effective defense against the Captain America shield. He also upgraded all safety and emergency release measures. He barely used the suits anymore, choosing to spend his time in his workshop and helping Rhodey recover, but it was a relief to know that when he did need to use them, what happened in Siberia wouldn't happen again. 

Tony sighed, irritated, as FRIDAY made the announcement again. “I’m not expecting guests.” 

A side effect of, well, everything was that nobody came to see Tony anymore. Not even Pepper. She spent most of her time in Los Angeles now, a compromise after Tony begged her to stay on board as CEO, saying she needed her own space while Tony sorted himself out. That had hurt. Happy had gone with her, claiming the weather to be much more conducive to his health, though Tony saw right through that. And he couldn’t even blame the man. 

“Colonel Rhodes has already greeted them in the living room, sir,” FRIDAY said. 

Tony gritted his teeth at the passive aggressive tone. While he was proud of his achievements with artificial intelligence development, he thought that perhaps he was a little too accurate at times. 

Then again, he did mirror the programming after himself. 

“Save and close, FRIDAY.” Tony backed away from the holograms as they shut down, leaving the room in bright white light. The music that had been blaring before FRIDAY’s announcement remained off. 

“Who’s here?” Tony asked, exiting the workshop and heading toward the elevators. The slid open without prompting and Tony stepped inside, turning on a heel. “FRIDAY?” he prompted, wondering why the hesitation. “Something wrong with your programming, sweetheart?” 

“No, sir. I’m performing within optimal parameters. I was simply waiting for you to enter the elevator,” she said as the doors slid shut. 

Tony felt a chill race down his spine, and he straightened against the sensation. “Why?” he asked. 

“Colonel Rhodes asked me to,” she replied, her voice honest and unassuming. 

Tony glared at the wall, wishing he would have made a holographic interface of FRIDAY so he could actually glare at her. He knew Rhodey had been up to something, but had chosen to ignore it. His guests could be anybody from the Secretary of State to the former Captain America himself. Either one would absolutely piss him off. 

“Who are my guests, FRIDAY?” he said, jaw clenched tight. 

“Agents Romanoff and Barton, sir,” FRIDAY announced as the elevator doors slid open once again. 

Thankfully, the first person Tony saw was Rhodey himself, standing tall, as though he hadn’t spent the last six months learning how to walk again. Rhodey had turned toward the elevators, a stern, yet pleading look on his face. Romanoff and Barton stood huddled together, facing Rhodey, all dressed in black and looking equally uncomfortable. 

It finally clicked that all of this was Rhodey’s doing. 

“What did you do?” Tony snapped, not even bothering to acknowledge the others in the room. Panic clawed inside Tony’s chest, threatening to turn him inside out. He clenched his fists, hoping in vain to keep himself in some sort of control. Ever since Siberia, Tony had been quick to anger and uncaring about what he could say to hurt others. He could put Banner to shame. 

But for Rhodey, his one and only true best friend in this world, Tony would hold everything in and listen. 

When Romanoff stepped forward, face carefully blank, Tony damn near snarled at her. She had been on his side, but when he had needed her most, she had turned on him. 

“Tony,” she started, voice low and soothing. It was the same exact tone she would use when she was trying to calm down Bruce after a fight. “We got Steve’s message.” 

Tony froze, the sound of Steve’s name spoken aloud in front of him by somebody other than Rhodey shocking him into stillness. Then he understood what Natasha was saying. Steve had given them a message? What message? What had Rhodey done? What the hell was going on? 

“And what message would that be?” Tony asked, folding his arms across his chest. He didn’t care if her laser-like gaze flicked down to his posture and unraveled all the psychology behind it. He would fold his damn arms if he wanted to. 

“That an invitation had been given to the Avengers, welcoming them home for Christmas, no questions asked,” Nat said, cocking her head to one side. A questioning look fell over her face before it was wiped away with one of understanding. Her eyes flicked to Rhodey. 

Tony saw red before he whirled on Rhodey. “You son of a bitch!” 

“See, Nat? I knew it. Let’s get going,” Barton turned on his heel and strode toward the front door. Tony saw Nat shoot a sympathetic look to Rhodey from the corner of his eye as she turned and followed Barton. 

In that moment, memories flashed in Tony’s mind, memories of the Avengers laughing, eating, saving the world together. And further memories of them arguing, leaving, and fighting each other. It hurt more than Pepper leaving had. It almost hurt more than the death of his parents. He couldn’t stand to watch them leave again, no matter what had happened. 

“Wait,” he said, so quietly he didn’t know if they had heard them. But then Nat stopped, looked over her shoulder right at him. He felt his chest tighten. “Please. Stay as long as you wish.” 

With that, he turned on his heel and strode away from the three of them, through the house, and through the hallways that led toward the kitchen and Jarvis’ old quarters. He hurried through the kitchen, pristine through disuse. He headed to the door he always went to as a child, a door that had once provided comfort and solace in a way his own bedroom never had, and pushed it open. 

He was a coward. A coward in the truest sense. 

After all these years, the rooms still smelled like tobacco and peppermint. It hit him like a punch to the gut, though he expected it. He wondered how real that scent was, or if it was just his imagination filling in the gaps. 

He missed the old butler. Nobody had even come close to replacing him, though Tony had tried with JARVIS, his first artificial intelligence, and look how well that turned out. 

Tony shut the door behind him, shutting out the noise and confusion that was about to fall upon this house. He walked over to Jarvis’ old couch, a stiff and hard European thing that Tony hadn’t had the heart to get rid of. He hadn’t touched this part of the house, not in all the years since Jarvis had passed. 

Collapsing onto the couch, Tony leaned his head up against the back, closing his eyes against the roaring headache. 

Damn Rhodey. What the hell was Tony going to do? The damage had been done. Steve was no doubt on his way already. Tony could totally sneak out of this place and fly back to California for the holidays. Yeah, it would probably ruin any plans Pepper had, but she didn’t even have to know he was going to be there. He’d be quiet as a mouse, in his workshop, ignoring any and everybody. Or better yet, maybe he’d fly off to somewhere tropical and spend some quality time with a massage therapist. 

But as terrified as Tony felt at the mere thought of seeing Steve again, there was a tiny part of him that thrilled at the idea. Not just that Steve would be home, but that all the Avengers would be here, celebrating Christmas. A temporary cease fire. If he could convince even a couple of them to stay afterwards, then it would be a boon. 

But he would have to be extra careful around Steve. He would not let that slice of tall, blond, patriotic perfection steal his heart again. Tony had taken it back and he didn’t intend to let anybody else have it. 

“Sir, Miss Romanoff is outside for you,” FRIDAY announced. 

“Great. Perfect. Just what I need,” Tony muttered to himself, sitting upright and rubbing his hands together. He could ignore her. Let her stand out there and stew. But knowing her, she had tracked him down and wouldn't release him until she had had her say. 

He took a deep breath and forced it out. Another breath. Confident he could maintain his composure, Tony added, “Let her in.” 

The door opened without a sound, though it was one of the originals to the house with a handle and a manual lock. Tony remembered rattling that handle like the little brat he had been. 

Natasha strode through the door like she owned the place, and Tony found himself sitting up a little straighter. Her gaze zeroed in on him, her sharp green eyes assessing him. Tony debated on giving her a smile, pretending everything was alright, but given the terms they had left on, he decided to just let it go. She obviously had some things to say. 

“Miss Romanoff,” Tony said, finally standing from the couch. 

“Mr. Stark,” Natasha said. Tony tried not to flinch, and he wasn’t sure he succeeded. “We should talk.” 

“Why, Miss Romanoff, should I be honored?” Tony quipped, internally wincing. 

Natasha didn’t look impressed. “Can it, Tony. You know why I’m here.” 

“Actually, no, I don’t.” Tony stuck his hands in his pockets, if only to pinch himself without her seeing. It was an old trick his mother had taught him for those times when he felt he needed to hit something. 

Natasha rolled her eyes. Or as close to it as she ever did. “I want to apologize.” 

That stopped Tony short. Natasha never apologized. She had her reasons for everything she did and if she apologized for any one thing, she would have to apologize for them all. And that was enough for Tony to realize that he should have trusted Natasha. 

“You knew Steve wouldn’t stop,” Tony said. Natasha’s eyes widened slightly before she shifted her stance. 

Silence reigned in the room, which had suddenly grown much smaller. Natasha sized him up and Tony pinched his thigh from the inside of his pants. 

“This doesn’t change anything,” Natasha finally said and Tony’s heart cracked a little more. “Once the holidays are over, I’m gone again. And good luck finding me.” 

Tony nodded, shifting his gaze to the floor. He couldn’t stand to look at her now, knowing how badly he had fucked up the last time he saw her. 

The door opened and shut, the sound of Natasha’s footsteps light on the hardwood floors. Alone once again, Tony sank to the couch, staring at a stain in the rug that Jarvis had tried to get out for years. The side of his thigh ached from the pinching, but that paled in comparison to the ache in his chest. 

How was he going to get through the holidays? 

“Just like you got through the last one, young Master Stark.” Tony could practically hear Jarvis’ clipped British tones echoing off the walls. Every time Tony had to go to yet another party, he whined and whined, hoping Jarvis would help him escape. And every time he’d ask, “How can I get through this?” Jarvis would respond, “Just like you got through the last one, young Master Stark.” 

It was all for show, those parties, and that’s how Tony had adapted himself. He was an actor, a thespian ready to smile and exchange lines with the others. He had done it for years. He could do it again. 

Squaring his shoulders, Tony stood from the couch and glanced around the room. “Wish me luck, old man,” he whispered. Another tradition of theirs. 

Natasha and Clint were nowhere to be found when Tony entered the living room once again. But Rhodey sat in the criminally uncomfortable reclining armchair closest to the elevator. He stood as soon as Tony entered the room, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“I know, I know, I’m a terrible person –” he began. 

“Yes, you are. But I’ll deal. It’s not important.” Tony waved his hands at Rhodey, trying to get him to sit back down. Rhodey could only withstand so much of that exoskeleton in one day. 

“It is important, Tones,” Rhodey said, ignoring Tony’s attempt to get him to sit back down. “You’ve done everything for me these last six months. Everything. From wiping my ass when I couldn’t all the way to helping me walk again.” 

“To be fair, I just hired a nurse to wipe your ass –” 

“And I wanted to help. You miss the Avengers. I do, too. This is the only way I can see all of us having a chance of being together again. Of being a team. We can’t talk and work things out if we’re hiding halfway across the world from each other.” 

“Rhodey,” Tony said, then sighed heavily and raised a hand to pinch his nose. “It’s not going to work. Forcing us all together, we may get a couple of apologies out of it, but what’s done is done. There’s no going back.” Natasha had just proven that to him. 

“I think you’re wrong,” Rhodey said, chin held high. Tony hated it when Rhodey looked at him that way. 

“Whatever,” Tony said, waving it all away again. “Have you done your PT yet? That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? A giant ruse to get out of your PT.” Tony strode away toward the elevator, expecting Rhodey to follow him at his own pace. He knew Rhodey hated it when Tony hovered. 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what this is,” Rhodey muttered, voice dripping with sarcasm, but he followed. 

Over the next few days, more of the former Avengers showed up. Tony grew more and more tense as FRIDAY announced each arrival. First was Sam, who looked like a kicked puppy. And since Sam had helped him out on the Raft, Tony had given Sam one of the better rooms in the place. Vision and Wanda showed next, which was another punch to the gut. Seeing the visual representation of JARVIS look at him with such sad eyes made Tony want to tell everyone to get out. But he held his tongue. 

Then Coulson arrived. Who Tony hadn’t even known was alive. After staring at the man for a good ten minutes, Coulson mentioned something about Tahiti, which didn't make sense. Tony reconsidered packing up and leaving for Tahiti immediately. If they could bring Coulson back from the dead, then they should be able to fix Tony’s broken heart just fine. 

“Well, Agent Agent, if I had known you were even alive, I wouldn’t have given my best room to Sam,” Tony said. Coulson gave Tony his simple half smile. Tony found himself grinning before giving Coulson the biggest hug he had in him. Which, admittedly, wasn't much. Tony wasn't a hugger. 

“I know all about the Accords and you and I will be having a talk, young man,” Coulson said into his ear. 

And that was enough hugging. Tony withdrew and narrowed his eyes at Coulson. But the man held onto his half smile, leaving Tony to only guess what he would have to say about the Accords. 

Then Thor arrived, heartbroken over his recent breakup with Jane and wanting to find solace in his friends. It was all very dramatic. Tony gave him his second-best room. Coulson and Sam didn’t have to know. 

It snowed the night before Steve and Barnes arrived, which seemed oddly fitting. Airports were shut down, streets were closed to traffic, but that didn’t stop the people of New York from being out and about. And of course, it didn't stop Steve and Barnes. 

"Sir," FRIDAY began, and Tony tensed, knowing the inevitable was about to happen. "Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes are here." 

In the next instant, Rhodey walked into Tony's workshop, which he knew he had locked up tighter than a nun's habit. The exoskeleton whirred as Rhodey took his steps, smaller than they used to be, but growing more and more confident every day. 

"Really?" Tony asked, irritation, frustration, and helplessness all rolling together into a nauseating mess in his stomach. Rhodey simply lifted an eyebrow. "You gotta tell me what you've done to FRIDAY. It's a potential security breach." 

"It's a potential nothing," Rhodey said as he crossed his arms over his chest, all authority. "Look, I know you don't want to do this. And I'm a terrible friend for making you. But the sooner we do this, the sooner it's over and we can all move on." 

Tony stared at Rhodey, all at once realizing that he had hoped Steve and Barnes wouldn't have arrived. That they would have cancelled their plans and the rest of the team would disperse before long. It was a foolish hope. And he knew it would be childish to throw a temper tantrum about it, but that was exactly what he wanted to do. It wouldn't take him very long at all to don the latest suit, mutter something about it needing testing, and then shooting out of the mansion like his ass was on fire. Toward the closest bar. 

But Rhodey was also right. The longer he delayed, the worse it would be for everybody. 

"Let's get this show on the road!" Tony clapped a hand on Rhodey's shoulder as he passed him, delighting in the shock that covered Rhodey's face. "Oh, you're still on my naughty list. Don't worry." 

Tony cursed the day he ever opened up to Rhodey about his Christmas and friendship woes. It hadn’t even been a week ago. And here he was, nervously tapping his fingers against his chest, a habit that hadn’t gone away with the arc reactor, and waiting for the elevator to take him and Rhodey up to the ground floor. 

Tony wondered what Steve looked like now. No doubt the same as always, with his perfect hair and perfect smile on a freshly shaven face. It made him a little nervous that Barnes was with him, but Steve wouldn’t have brought him if it wasn’t safe. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even come if Barnes hadn't agreed that he could. That thought sent a pang of… something through Tony. He refused to acknowledge it. 

The elevator drew to a halt and the door slid open silently. Tony could feel the tension in the house rise exponentially. 

Tony strode forward, purpose built in every step. He called forward every tip and trick he had ever learned for handling less than pleasant meetings, whether it was the Board or the hungry press. If Captain America also now fit that bill, well… 

Except he wasn’t Captain America anymore. Not officially. The shield was sitting underneath one of Tony’s lab benches downstairs. In a box. 

That reminder made Tony hesitate for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to set off his whole game. 

He turned the corner into the foyer, Rhodey hot behind him, and stopped dead. 

The good captain and his sergeant were smiling at everyone, giving hugs and laughing, as though nothing had changed. As though nothing had gone to complete and utter shit since last Christmas. 

The beard threw him. And the long, slightly mused dirty blond hair. Gone was the perfect son of the U.S. military persona that Steve had worn so well. In its place was a sturdy, confident... man. He was all man and Tony was so fucked. 

Steve looked good. Happy. His deep blue eyes sparkled, his cheeks and nose slightly red from the cold outside. Did they run to the mansion from the airport? Tony wouldn’t put it past Steve. But what was more, Steve looked relaxed. He wore straight legged denim that did wonderful things to his ass and a cable knit sweater beneath a light waterproof jacket. Tony was sure he saw a tag peak out of one sleeve. Even the boots looked brand new, barely a scuff on them. Barnes was no doubt responsible for the get up. And he’d probably have to do something distasteful like thank the man for putting one of man’s greatest creations in that outfit. 

Tony mentally shook himself and shifted his gaze to the other half of the arriving party, dressed in dark denim, combat books, and a black leather jacket.. 

Barnes’ ice cool stare bore into him, catching him off guard. Tony stilled, feeling for all intents and purposes like prey to Barnes’ predator. And for a moment, Tony recalled the footage of the Winter Soldier coming up to the car accident, punching his father, choking his mother. 

That thought burned deep in Tony’s gut. He knew it hadn't been Barnes that had killed his parents. It had been HYDRA. He _knew_ that. But right now, in this moment, he could believe Barnes had it in him to do it. 

That thought was enough to rouse Tony from his daze, at least. Tony cleared his throat, plastered on a cheap, dazzling smile that everybody in the room would no doubt see through, but he didn’t care. At least they couldn’t say he didn’t welcome the boy hero and his side-kick without a smile. 

“Steve,” he said, meeting Steve’s gaze. His voice held true and strong. Thank God. He didn’t dare glance at Barnes again even as he offered him a greeting. “Barnes. Welcome to Stark Mansion. A change of scenery should do all of us some good, don’t cha think?” 

He wanted to wince with the words. Like scenery could ever help their problems. He kept the smile on his face, despite the rest of the former Avengers shifting aside and turning toward him, all with stoic looks. 

It was then that Tony realized three things. One, Steve wasn’t as relaxed as he appeared. His face collapsed into one of wariness, all traces of happy greetings shuttered behind skepticism. Two, Barnes’ left arm was missing, the left sleeve of the jacket tucked into the front pocket. And three, despite all of them taking up residence in Tony’s home, the former Avengers were all clearly loyal to Steve. Still. 

Tony wanted to toss up his hands and throw them all out. 

“Thank you for the invitation, Tony,” Steve said, stepping forward and holding out a hand. 

Panic gripped Tony. He didn’t want to touch that hand, didn’t want to be near it. Not after last time. So, he stepped back and waved the gratitude away, turning to Rhodey and clapping him on the shoulder. 

“Rhodey will show you to your rooms.” 

And with that, Tony fled.


	4. Frosted Window Panes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has arrived at Stark Mansion and has a lot of feels about it. As well as some revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I meant to get this up sooner than today, but I got really sick and my eyes wouldn't stop blurring enough to go through this chapter. As it is, it's probably rougher than I'd like, but I didn't want to make you wait anymore. (Beta? Anyone?)
> 
> Needless to say, this isn't going to be done by Christmas. Maybe by New Years? I'm going to hustle. Promise. But I lost a few days being sick. (I'm about to start writing chapter 8, if that makes you guys feel a little better. I'm nearing the halfway point.)
> 
> And thanks so much for the kudos and comments! I love that you guys are so into this! :)
> 
> One last thing! If there's any smushy, romantic, Christmas-cheese type stuff you'd like to see Steve and Tony do together, feel free to suggest them! I may not be able to include all of them, but I'll try. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Steve POV  
***

Steve clenched his jaw as Rhodes opened the door to what would be his bedroom. If he hadn’t, he would have risked it dropping open in surprise. And really, he should have known better by now. This was Tony Stark, resident peacock. Large floor to ceiling windows overlooked the back yard, a picture-perfect garden, complete with a fountain in a courtyard, retired for the season. A fresh layer of snow draped over everything. A plush loveseat stood in front of the window, the perfect place to sit with a cup of hot cocoa and stare. Commit the scene to memory. Maybe Steve would try to convince Bucky to go to an art store and pick up a canvas and some oils. He wondered what the scene would look like in the spring. Probably bursting with color and foliage, birds and animals dancing all around. 

"Pretty sure you got the best view besides Tony's," Rhodes said wryly. 

"It's something alright," Steve murmured. It ached, knowing Tony had given him one of his best rooms. As though he had something to prove to him. Steve wished he could tell Tony that he was more than the money, the buildings, the… things in his possession. In a parallel universe, Steve imagined Tony showing this room himself, glowing and prattling on about its virtues. He imagined shutting Tony up with his mouth and how they would melt together on the loveseat, wallowing in each other’s presence. 

Steve shook himself from the view and the fantasies it conjured up, turning to the large bed. It matched the bed he had had in the Tower, easily the biggest bed he had ever seen, covered with a simple blue duvet and a hundred matching pillows. He could easily see Tony sprawled out on top of it, his best come hither stare working its magic on Steve. Tony no doubt would mean it in jest, but it would have had the same effect on Steve, as it had a million times before.

_Get it together, Rogers._

He’d arrived just twenty minutes ago and his imagination was already running rampant. Only five minutes ago, Tony had turned tail and run from the room at the mere sight of him. 

That stung.

He placed his small, light duffle upon the duvet. Steve and Bucky had left Wakanda with nothing but the clothes on their back, not knowing what kind of travel situation they would find themselves in. Surprisingly, they had only to go as far as Berlin before one of Nat's contacts found them and gave them their travel arrangements back to the States. They had been given aliases and falsified papers that nobody in customs seemed to look at with any scrutiny. It had made Steve's jaw twitch, but Bucky had given him a narrowed look before Steve swallowed his observations back. He could address it another time. 

If he ever had another opportunity.

Steve wandered around the room, biding his time. He knew Rhodes wanted to talk to him, and he wanted to talk to Rhodes, but after that scene in the foyer, he wondered just what to say.

He entered the en-suite bathroom, also with the floor to ceiling windows and an obscenely large (was that copper?) bathtub overlooking the garden, when Rhodes cleared his throat. 

"I'm glad you and Barnes came," he said, diplomatically. It almost made Steve smile. "I know that wasn't the warmest welcome, but he'll come around."

Steve gave a soft sigh before turning back to Rhodes. "I wasn't expecting a hug."

Rhodes snorted. "Guess we should just be happy he didn't fire a repulsor at you guys."

"There's that," Steve said with a half-smile. Then he turned serious. "I'll be honest. I'm at a loss for what to do here. If Tony is just going to run away every time I enter a room..." He let the sentence trail off.

"He won't," Rhodes said. "I know it doesn't seem like that now, but he won't. Tony has a big heart and he loves this totally messed up family, you included. It'll be awkward, but just be yourself. And it probably wouldn't hurt to actually apologize to him in person."

Steve winced but nodded. "Can do."

Rhodes stepped forward and clapped Steve on the shoulder. His hand felt huge and heavy. "It'll all work out. I promise. If not, I'll kick both of your asses myself."

Steve laughed. "Thanks."

"I'll go check on Barnes. The rest of us were thinking about dinner around six. That sound good?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "Tell everybody I'll fight them all at once for a decent pizza."

"Ha, sure, man," Rhodes said, backing away and out of the room with a smile on his face. He shut the door and Steve was left with his thoughts.

Walking back over to the loveseat, Steve sat and stared unseeing out the window, lost to the scene that had occurred downstairs.

Tony had looked good enough to eat with his hair mussed and grungy t-shirt frayed at the edges. His jeans had grease stains but hugged his hips and thighs just enough to remind Steve how much he loved to draw those contours. The goatee had been immaculate as ever and his deep dark eyes as sharp as a pair of knives in Nat’s collection, despite the dark bruises beneath them. Steve had felt like a man dying of thirst, drinking up the familiar sight of Tony. 

But even as he ached to reach out and hold Tony, Steve could feel, could see the defensive line to Tony’s shoulders, the posture screaming “Go Away” to anybody who looked closely enough. It belied Tony’s easy smile, a smile Steve recognized from the papers. He knew Tony was putting on a show, and the illusion was cracking.

He had never seen Tony behave like that to him before. The fact that Steve's mere presence was enough to send Tony fleeing as though he had seen a ghost was not good. It was all kinds of not good. He had known it wouldn't exactly be an easy meeting between the two of them. The last time Steve had even made eye contact with Tony, he had had his shield raised overhead and been about to smash it into Tony's arc reactor. What had once been Tony’s heart. It may not be in his chest anymore, but the intimacy of the power source was still there. He wouldn't ever forget that look on Tony's face, the one of pure fear and heartbreak. It had nearly killed Steve to go through with it.

And even through all of that, Steve couldn't stop the force of pure want from rising in his chest. The moment Tony entered the room, Steve had wanted nothing more than to stride right up to Tony, haul him into his arms, kiss him, kneel before him, beg for forgiveness. The tsunami of emotions roiled within him, all culminating in the very real observation that his crush on Tony had only grown larger in spite of everything. 

He was so very screwed.

A solid tap against his door was his only warning before Bucky entered the room. A low whistle sounded. 

“Damn. I thought I was imagining shit downstairs, but now I know I’m right.” Steve grew tense at Bucky’s confident tone.

“Imagining what?” he asked. 

“Tony’s sweet on you.” 

“Buck,” Steve began, the token protests already on his tongue. And yet…

“Oh, shit,” Bucky said, finally coming into view and staring down at Steve. Steve knew his heart was on open display in that moment and he didn’t have the energy to hide it anymore. Not in front of his best friend. “You’re gone on him, too. What the hell, Stevie?” 

“You wouldn’t understand.” It was a cop out answer, but Steve didn’t much care at the moment. He wanted to be left alone. 

“So why don’t you explain it to me?” Bucky rounded the edge of the loveseat and perched himself on the arm. Steve swallowed hard and didn’t dare look up at his best friend’s judgmental stare. 

They played this game many times before. Bucky was patient enough, he could wait until the end of time for Steve to open up. Steve was stubborn enough, he could hold his mouth shut until the end of time. But somehow, every time, Bucky managed to pry Steve open enough to know what was wrong. Steve already knew going in that this would be a losing battle.

“For what it’s worth,” Bucky began, breaking the long silence, “I don’t care that he’s a guy.”

It shocked Steve enough to break his position and snap his eyes up to Bucky’s. 

Bucky grinned, a mischievous one that could rival the devil’s. “Thought that would get your attention.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but gave up his stubborn silence. “He’s brilliant, Buck. He’s smarter than Howard ever was. He’s passionate about the things that interest him. Compassionate for the people close to him, including the Avengers. He probably wouldn’t give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, but he would figure out a way to help you make a hundred shirts and then pass them all around.”

At Bucky’s narrowed eyes, Steve continued. “And I’m not being blinded by emotion, if that’s what you’re thinking. He had more flaws than I can even count. He’s egotistical, rude, abrasive, impatient, doesn’t follow orders unless he wants to, doesn’t take good care of himself at all. I would…” Steve swallowed against the lump that had formed in his throat. “I would take him food regularly whenever he was on one of his binges. He’d be holed up in his workshop for days, Buck. Days. After three days, I’d haul him up and shove him in a shower before putting him to bed. He’s so busy worrying about everybody else sometimes that his own sense of self-worth and preservation fall to the bottom of his to-do list. Drives me absolutely crazy.”

“Seems like a lot more bad than good,” Bucky said, still frowning down at Steve. Then he lifted his hand and rested it on Steve’s shoulder. “But if there’s one thing you’ve always been good at, even before the serum, is your taste in people. You don’t put up with bullshit unless you believe that person is worthy of it. And Lord knows most of us on this planet are not worthy of it, myself and Tony included.”

“You are. Both of you,” Steve gritted out. He was so tired of everyone belittling themselves.

“What I’m trying to say,” Bucky continued, as though he hasn’t heard Steve, “is that you’re a good judge of character. And far be it from me to contradict you. But you have to know, I gotta look out for you. Just like I always have. You know, when I’m not brainwashed.”

Steve huffed a small laugh and shook his head. “Some things will never change, will they?”

“Nope,” Bucky said, popping the _p._ “So, what’s your plan?”

“Plan?” Steve asked, frowning the question up at Bucky.

“Yeah. You’re ‘the Man with the Plan,’ aren’t you?” Bucky laughed and jumped off the arm of the loveseat when Steve took a swipe at him. “Seriously. You brought us here for Christmas. Christmas with your family. And right now, you and Tony have some serious making up to do. What are you going to do about it?”

Steve stared at Bucky, not quite believing how easily Bucky was taking all of this in.

“Well?” Bucky prompted him, eyebrow arched. He looked so much like his ma in that moment that Steve’s chest constricted harshly.

“I need to apologize to him,” Steve said. That decision felt right. “I know it’s probably too much to hope for, but I’d like it if he and I could be friends again.”

“Stevie,” Bucky began, pulling on his old cool charm like a favorite sweater. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll have Tony eating out of the palm of your hand.”

Steve barked a laugh, feeling some of the tension that had been growing since he first arrived dissipate. “Watch out, New York City. Bucky Barnes is back in town.” 

“Damn right,” Bucky said, his grin wide and crooked. Charming as ever. But deep within those crystal blue eyes, Steve could see the hurt, the pain that Bucky endured. Being HYDRA’s soldier had taken its toll, more than anything Steve could ever imagine. He would have to ask Natasha about what they could do to help Bucky adjust and accept, not just ignore that pain and hope it would go away.

“Dinner’s not until six,” Steve said. “How about we unpack and get settled then you can teach me all your tricks?” They both knew that Steve wouldn’t take any of Bucky’s suggestions seriously, but it was a way for them to reminisce together about old times.

“I definitely need a shower after that cargo plane surprise,” Bucky said, giving himself a sniff and turning up his nose. They had purchased new clothes when they arrived in the city and tried to wash off most of the fishy smell in the snow banks, but to both of their sensitive sinuses, they still reeked.

“Good idea. Meet me back here when you’re done?” Steve asked. 

“You betcha.” Bucky left, closing the door quietly behind him.

By the time six o’clock arrived, Steve and Bucky were clean and relaxed. They had spent the rest of the afternoon reliving some of the more lucrative stories Bucky had, under the guise of Steve’s courting education. While entertaining, Steve couldn’t see himself using them. The idea made Steve’s neck warm in embarrassment, knowing Tony would see though any attempt at wooing and would probably kick him out of the house for daring to try.

Steve and Bucky made their way to dining room. The table was piled with boxes of New York style pizza. Clint, Thor, and Natasha were already there, loading their paper plates high with slices with various toppings. Steve had startled at the sight of Coulson earlier that afternoon, who had simply given Steve a friendly wave and his signature half-smile as though he hadn’t just returned from the dead. Steve made a mental note to corner him later. Vision hovered off to the side, not needing any food but knowing that dinner time was one of the prime social gatherings for the Avengers. Sam and Wanda showed up not long after Steve and Bucky. 

“Oh, man, now we’re never gonna eat,” Sam said on a whine, belying his irritation by sending a wink to Steve. 

“You know I always dish up last,” Steve said, gesturing for Sam and Wanda to go ahead. 

Sam eyed Bucky up and down. “Does he eat as much as you?” he said to Steve.

Bucky grinned, with the slightest edge to it. “You’re about to find out.”

“Buck,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Yeah, he does, but I’m sure FRIDAY accounted for that already. Everybody will get enough to eat.”

“I did, sir,” FRIDAY’s fresh Irish accent sounded above them all. 

Sam held up his hands. “Alright, alright. I’m going.”

Steve and Bucky waited until the rest had dished up their plates, then took two of the remaining pies before following the rest of the group out into the living room. Steve and Bucky sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, perched on a couple of pillows. Nat sat on Clint’s lap with Coulson close by on the couch, Wanda on Coulson’s other side. Sam commandeered the reclining arm chair, which looked far too stiff to be comfortable despite Sam kicking it all the way back. Thor and Vision stood nearby the burning fireplace, talking amongst themselves. 

It was like no time had passed. None of the former team asked each other where they had been or what they had been up to. They simply started commenting on local affairs and news. Nobody spared Bucky a second glance except for Sam, who had abandoned “that monstrosity of a chair” to sit by Bucky on the floor and swap stories with him about Steve. Steve could only roll his eyes so much before tuning out their conversation and listening in on Clint and Nat’s about the latest gun specs.

Despite the change in scenery and the slight air of awkwardness around the edges of the room, Steve felt his chest grow warm at the sights around him. This was home. 

All they were missing was Tony and Rhodes.

“FRIDAY,” Steve began, aware that he had everyone’s attention in the room, even if they weren’t looking directly at him. “Where is Tony?”

“Master Stark is in his workshop with Colonel Rhodes.”

Steve frowned. “They do know that dinner is here, right?”

“Of course, sir. Colonel Rhodes is trying to convince Master Stark to join everybody upstairs.”

Steve’s stomach dropped, taking his appetite with it. He looked over at Bucky, who looked back at him with a blank stare. Not hesitating for a moment, Steve picked up the rest of his pie before making a detour back into the dining room and filling the box back up with an assortment of other slices. 

“Where you going?” Bucky called to him when Steve walked back through the living room, heading toward the elevator door he had spotted at the far end of the room. 

“To Tony’s workshop. He needs to eat and I’ll be damned if I’m the reason why he isn’t.”

“Steve.” 

It was Nat, having abandoned her perch on Clint’s lap to make her way toward him. Steve paused, turning back to hear what she had to say. 

“He’s not just avoiding you, I hope you know,” she said, her face carefully neutral. “Don’t take all our burdens onto your own shoulders.” 

“I’m not,” Steve said. “But you can’t argue the fact that Tony and I need to bury the hatchet as quickly as possible.”

Nat inclined her head, her face still frustratingly smooth. “Good luck.” She did an about-face and headed back to the living room. Steve made eye contact with Bucky, who shot him a quick wink for luck, before turning back to the elevator door. 

FRIDAY took care of operating the elevator doors so Steve didn’t have to juggle the pizza box. Once inside, Steve noticed the panel on the side read floors one through four and one basement floor. It didn’t take long to figure out that he was going further down than the panel indicated. 

Steve said a quick thank you to FRIDAY when the elevator doors opened once again. Steve could hear Rhodes’ low but irritated voice carry through the air, though nobody was in sight. Tony’s quick, sarcastic response spurred Steve into action.

Turning the corner toward the voices, Steve drew to a halt. Rhodes and Tony were arguing alright, though Rhodes sat in a wheelchair with Tony towering over him. Tony was still dressed in the grungy t-shirt and jeans he had greeted them in earlier, looking no less beautiful but for the air of pure anger and frustration radiating off him. A fresh streak of grease traveled along his sharp jaw, down his neck, and Steve wanted nothing more than to trace that line with his fingertips, or his lips. He wasn’t picky. 

“Tones, just come upstairs and eat. Ten minutes with everybody. I know you’re still angry with me…”

“You bet your pretty ass I’m still angry,” Tony shouted over Rhodes.

“…but don’t take it out on them. You missed them and you know it.”

Steve stood there, stock still, waiting for Tony’s response. Rhodes had warned him that Tony would be upset when they started showing up, and Steve’s cold welcoming had confirmed it. And as much as that had hurt, though it had been well deserved, all of that didn’t matter if Tony had truly missed them. Missed him.

After a hair’s hesitation, Tony shook his head, his whole posture deflating. He backed off from his dominate position, turning his back to Rhodes and running his hands through his already disheveled hair. 

It was as close to an admission as Steve had ever seen from Tony. His heart swelled and his courage grew. 

He could do this. 

And then Tony’s head lifted and spotted Steve. Those sharp brown eyes bore into Steve, baring his very soul for Tony’s examination. He knew Tony was perceptive, more perceptive than anybody really gave him credit for, but he prayed to any deity that would listen that Tony wouldn’t pass judgement so soon. Then those eyes narrowed and Steve’s breath hitched.

“Get out,” he said, tone icy and quiet. Steve tensed, some of his bravado already cowering away. But he squared his shoulders and marched forward. 

“Colonel,” Steve greeted, giving him a polite and hopefully reassuring smile. “You can join everyone upstairs if you want. I brought Tony down a sampling.”

Rhodes gave Steve a sideways glance, clearly weighing the pros and cons of leaving the former Captain America alone with Iron Man in such a volatile state. Then he simply sighed, shrugged, and shook his head. 

“Your funeral,” he said, twirling his wheelchair around with a practiced move and booking it toward the elevator. 

“Rhodey! Hey! Get back here!” Tony made to follow Rhodey, clearly wanting the backup of his best friend, or maybe it was just an excuse to get away from Steve. Either way, Steve wasn’t having any of it. 

Stepping neatly into Tony’s path, Steve offered up the pizza. 

“Eat. Please.” Steve may or may not have opened his baby blues wider with the words, imploring Tony to listen to him. “We don’t even have to talk, but you and I both know it would be better if we did.” 

Tony snarled, clearly ready to take a bite out of Steve. Then he spun around on a heel and marched back into his workshop. 

Not wanting to miss his opportunity, Steve followed him.


	5. Scary Ghost Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is the cat backed into a corner. Poor thing.

Tony POV  
***

The temptation to jump into his latest Iron Man suit and fly off to Malibu, or Tahiti if Agent Agent was to be believed, grew with every step Tony took back into his workshop. Steve followed behind him, close enough to make that spot between his shoulder blades itch. But Tony’s stomach was growling and, as much as he loathed to admit it, Steve had a point.

He was going to hate every moment of the next ten minutes, but then it would be over and he could go back to ignoring Steve and Barnes.

He hoped.

Turning back to Steve, Tony snatched the pizza box out of his hands and placed it on the nearby workbench, shoving half-finished projects and tools out of the way. He flipped the lid open and, despite his stomach twisting up into knots, picked up a slice of the combo and shoved it into his mouth. 

It was a preventative measure. If his mouth was full, he wouldn’t word vomit all over the place. 

Steve watched him, as though he were watching the landing on the moon for the first time. And Tony knew, he had watched Steve closely when he saw the footage. It was the same face. Curiosity and a big dose of disbelief. Tony pretended to ignore him, staring down at the slice of pizza in his hands as he chewed. It took a few minutes, but Steve finally shook himself and began to look around the workshop.

“This is… nice,” Steve said, hesitating on the last word.

Tony snorted inelegantly, swallowing his mouthful. “I think you’re looking for the words ‘small,’ ‘disorderly,’ or ‘cramped.’ Take your pick. But I only had so much space to work with when I moved back in here.”

Steve turned his back to Tony, shoulders tensing up. Safe from being caught ogling for the time being, Tony allowed himself to take in the vast expanse of Steve’s back, the wide, beefy shoulders narrowing to a tight waist and ass. Tony’s mouth watered. He shoved more pizza in his mouth. 

_This is NOT the time…_

“Why did you move out of the tower, Tony?” Steve asked, still facing away, toward a blank wall. There was nothing interesting over there, so Tony concluded that Steve didn’t want to look at him. 

“I needed to check up on the ol’ family home,” Tony lied breezily, as though it were no hardship at all. 

Steve cast him an unimpressed look over one broad shoulder. “The family home the rest of us had never heard about until now?”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Steve before he caught himself and turned his attention back to the slice of pizza. He finished it up before reaching for another one. Chicken and garlic this time.

A sigh met Tony’s ears. It was a touch exasperated, a touch disappointed, but mostly sad. It set Tony on edge. 

“What? You expect me to pour my heart out about how I hate this place? How it’s full of dark and terrible memories for me but it’s better than being alone in the Tower?” Tony tossed his pizza slice back into the box before straightening up to his full height. His blood burned through his veins. “How about we just cue up some re-runs of _Friends_ and paint each other’s toenails while we reminisce about all the terrible times we’ve had and if Rachel and Ross will ever end up together.” 

Steve whipped around as Tony’s ranted, face flushed and brow furrowed.

“Cut it out,” he snapped, not even commenting on Tony’s pop culture reference, though Tony could see his fingers twitching, itching to add it to his list. 

Tony watched as Steve shut his eyes, sucked in a breath, held it, then released it. He repeated the motion several times before he opened his eyes again and zeroed in on Tony.

Tony’s mouth opened to ask what the hell Steve was doing, but Steve held up a hand, silencing him. 

“Before we wind ourselves up any further, I’d like to apologize.”

Tony’s mouth snapped shut, though his eyes widened. His palms began to sweat and his heart lurched behind the scars in his chest. He felt as though the gaping hole had returned and he didn’t quite know how to catch his breath. 

“I realize now that sending you the letter with a cell phone was a coward’s way out and that you deserved an apology in person. Our disagreement over the Sokovia Accords never should have escalated to the level that it did and I should have been more up front with you about Bucky.” Steve didn’t mention withholding his knowledge about the circumstances of Tony’s parents deaths, but it clouded the air like a thick fog between them. 

Anger flared deep within Tony, but he bit it back. He didn’t want to hear this, and yet he did. It angered him how Steve to could make it all seem so easy, as though he had simply ordered the wrong take out entrée, regardless of the fact that Tony might be allergic to onions or something. Which he wasn’t. But he couldn’t help the way the apology seemed to smooth over his frayed nerves, like a balm after a hot day in the sun. 

It took a moment for Tony to realize that Steve was waiting for a response from him. Like he might also be expecting an apology. 

And Tony hated expectations. 

“Well, alright, then. Do you feel better now?” Tony asked, turning his attention back to his half eaten slice of chicken and garlic pizza. He didn’t want it. Not even a little bit. He wanted a good stiff drink.

Silence reigned, punctuated by Steve’s rhythmic breathing. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. After long moments, Tony could practically hear Steve’s temper snap.

“No, actually, I don’t, Tony.” Steve rushed toward Tony, slapping the top of the pizza box down, cutting off Tony’s mental inventory of its contents. Tony stared at the top of the box, calculating just how big Steve’s hand was against the surface area of the box, before looking up and meeting Steve’s angered gaze head on.

“You’re being unbelievably selfish, even for you,” Steve continued. “Rhodey knew what you wanted, no, needed and he called us in. And we came, Tony. We dropped everything, risked being arrested, just to be here. For you. So, quit your bullshit and get your ass upstairs and say a few hellos. You can ignore me, berate me, shut me down all you want, but don’t let the rest of your friends down just because you and I can’t seem to bury the hatchet.”

Tony knew he must look ridiculous. Eyes wide, mouth slack, hand holding a drooping slice of pizza, frozen in place. 

All he could think was how unbearably hot Steve was when he was pissed. Tony wanted nothing more than to shove the pizza aside and have Steve, spread out on his workbench like Christmas dinner.

That thought was enough to bring Tony back down to earth. He cleared his throat, tossing the slice on top of the box, dangerously close to Steve’s hand. It didn’t miss his attention that Steve was being the self-sacrificing do-gooder he always had been. He also didn’t miss the fact that Steve was implying heavily that Tony was nothing but a disappointment to him. And while that was nothing new to Tony, it didn’t hurt any less coming from Steve. 

In fact, if anything, it hurt more.

Beyond tired and wanting this conversation to be over, Tony nodded, lowering his eyes to the pizza slice on the box. He wondered at what kind of sad metaphor that could be for his life. Always on the outside, while the party was going on inside, but any way in was held down by a true force of nature. 

Tony grit his teeth. Enough with the maudlin thoughts. Christ. He cleared his throat again. 

“One, who taught you how to swear like that?” Tony asked blithely. He grinned when Steve rolled his eyes. That was twice already. Tony was keeping score. “Two, I’ll come upstairs. But on one condition.”

“It’s always conditions with you,” Steve muttered. 

Tony narrowed his eyes. “And with good reason. My condition: you can no longer come down here and barge in as though you own the place. Guests stay upstairs.”

The unspoken “out of my way” rang loud and true throughout the room.

Tony stared at Steve’s stern gaze, refusing to back down. It was hard enough knowing Steve was in his house for who knows how long. It would be damn near impossible for him to work in his workshop if he was worrying over Steve coming down all the time. Not to mention, Tony needed a place to retreat that wasn’t in the main section of the house with all of the former Avengers lurking around.

It wasn’t hiding.

Finally, Steve relented, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. Tony absolutely refused to acknowledge the brief kicked puppy look Steve failed to keep under wraps. It faded a moment later, so Tony told himself he must have imagined it.

Tony was still too angry at Steve to allow him to get under his skin. Not like he had before.

“One more thing,” Tony said, bringing Steve’s attention back to him, wariness filling those beautiful blue eyes. “Barnes.” And just like that, the tension was back.

“What about him?” Steve asked, voice low with warning.

“I want to talk to him. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow, but soon. And I want to do it alone.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “That’s for Bucky to decide.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Tony said, flapping a hand in the air. “I’m telling you so you don’t get all bent out of shape and think I’m trying to kill him. I’m not. Scout’s honor.” Tony held up three fingers. 

“You weren’t a boy scout,” Steve said. 

“So?” Tony kept his fingers held high.

Steve stared at Tony again for a full five seconds before he gave a slight nod. Tony’s curious mind wondered just what exactly went on in Steve’s head when he was debating with himself. Where their two Captain Americas? Two Steve Rodgers? Maybe it was pre-serum Steve vs. post-serum Steve. Either way, it must be an interesting time up in that brain.

But it wasn’t like Tony was _that_ curious.

A second later, Steve plucked the pizza box off the workshop bench, half-eaten chicken and garlic slice on top and all, and turned on his heel before walking toward the elevator doors. 

“Oh, you mean go upstairs right now?” Tony asked, unable to resist the temptation of seeing Steve’s reaction.

“Tony.” It was a warning growl, but Steve’s steps didn’t even falter. Come to think of it, Tony was pretty sure he had heard that tone before. From just about everyone in his life.

Well, if you’re going through hell, keep going, right?

“FRIDAY, you know what to do,” he said as he left the workshop, heading toward the open elevator with Steve already inside.

“Always, sir.”

The elevator doors shut behind them and Tony swiped his pizza slice from the top of the box. He finished chewing it, hardly tasting a thing, as the elevator climbed. They stood in silence, Steve staring at the blinking numbers indicating the floor they were passing, and Tony chewing. Tony secretly hoped his masticating was irritating Steve’s sensitive hearing. 

Not that he was trying to be petty.

The doors swished open and the lively conversation that met them faded into nothingness less than a heartbeat later. 

“Well,” Tony began, striding forward and plastering on what he called his smile-for-the-press. “This isn’t awkward at all, is it?”

Nobody said a word, though Tony appreciated the slightly amused look on Coulson’s face. He could always rely on that one. Sam and Barnes sat on the floor by the coffee table, both solemn-faced. The stiff recliner remained abandoned, with good reason. Tony made a mental note to just get rid of the damn thing. Wanda, Coulson, Nat, and Barton were all piled on the couch, with Vision and Thor huddled to one side, where it looked like they had been talking with Rhodey. 

What Tony wouldn’t give to have Banner in the room with them. Then he knew he’d have one other person besides Rhodey cheering him on. 

Tony cleared his throat. As though he didn’t already have everybody’s sole attention. 

“Since we’re all here together for the first time in, how long?” Tony started, looking around with a raised eyebrow. He shoved his hands in his pockets and pinched his thighs. Show time. “Welcome to Stark Mansion, perhaps the gloomiest place to celebrate the holidays. So, good luck there.” Tony leveled a look at Rhodey, who simply tightened his lips and shook his head. “But, it’s not like we haven’t faced worse. And I know things are a little… rocky among us right now. So, um.” 

Tony took a moment and swallowed hard. He could do this. 

“Thanks for coming. Don’t hesitate to ask for something if you need it. FRIDAY should be able to take care of you and if not, ask her for me.”

Everyone maintained their poker faces, as though Tony hadn’t just offered his heart up on a silver platter to them. His family. Tony did his best to hide his own discomfort behind the charming smile, though his heart ached. He really should have known better than to listen to Steve. 

Steve clapped a hand on Tony’s shoulder in a show of comradery, but it only served to make Tony even more tense.

“That’s it?” Sam said, getting to his feet. He jutted his chin out. “No apology?”

The smile fell from Tony’s face and he winced. He felt Steve’s hand tighten on his shoulder. 

“Sam,” Steve began, placating tone in place. “There were things done on both sides that I’m sure we all regret happened.”

Sam’s frown deepened and he opened his mouth to no doubt list all the disappointing things Tony had done in the last year. Feeling cornered, Tony’s already precarious hold on his temper snapped. He lifted a hand out of his pocket and held it up, halting Sam’s words.

“If we’re talking about giving out apologies, I’m sure Rhodey would like an apology from you, Falcon,” Tony snapped, focusing his glare right on Sam. Like hell would he offer an apology here and now. Not after Natasha had brushed his off as meaningless so easily a few days ago, and certainly not after Steve had apologized for everything except the most important thing to Tony.

“Tones –” That was Rhodey.

“I believe –” Vision.

“Now, wait just a damn minute –” Sam.

Chaos erupted in the room, and for once, Tony simply stood there and watched it all unfold. He felt Steve’s hand fall away from his shoulder, and he ignored the hallow feeling that yawned inside his chest as a result. He had nothing further to say to the group. And he hoped Rhodey understood now why he never should have invited them home for Christmas. 

Tony saw Barnes make eye contact with Steve and frown. He saw Steve subtly shake his head back. Okay, he didn’t know what that was about but he could guess it might have something to do with him. Probably something to do with how they shouldn’t have come. 

Natasha and Barton were bickering back and forth with Coulson refereeing. Tony was too far away to hear what they were saying but he knew it wasn’t anything good from the look on Barton’s face. Thor simply leaned up against the wall and watched the confusion, no doubt thinking of the quarrels he would have with his brother, Loki. This probably paled in comparison. Vision had floated over to Wanda to rest a hand on her hair, and didn’t that just hurt? His own creation, if he could even call him that anymore, comforting another. 

When Tony spotted Rhodey heading his way, he nearly backpedaled out of the room. It was only the thunderous look on Rhodey’s face that made him hesitate. 

“Why did you –” Rhodey began, then shook his head. “Never mind. I know why. You gotta fix this.”

“Why?” Tony asked, a challenge in his voice. He had had enough of all this. He didn’t care if he sounded like a child. “All I wanted, truly wanted, since I got out of that stupid cave in Afghanistan, was peace. I wanted to end suffering. And the Avengers, as much as we were helping, were the cause of a lot of suffering. We needed to be put into check. Call me selfish. But I’m not apologizing for what I believe in.” At some point, the room had grown quiet, just in time to hear Tony’s monologue. He pressed on, keeping his eyes on Rhodey’s dark brown ones, finding comfort in them. “I won’t. But I will apologize for the end result. This was never supposed to happen. I wanted to be better. I wanted us to be better. But maybe we were never ready for that.”

As suddenly as the anger had come on, it fled, leaving Tony exhausted. He knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, so he turned to head back toward the elevators, wanting nothing more than to be surrounded by his workshop, his creations. Proof that he was worth something.

His eyes met Steve’s. He saw the hurt, frustration, and sadness swirl in them. And a touch of something else that Tony was too afraid to look into. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, only to Steve. And he strode toward the elevators. 

“Tony,” he heard Steve call out to him, but he ignored it. He needed to be away from everyone. 

Rhodey had made a huge mistake inviting everyone here for the holidays. Hopefully, now everyone would see it and leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanna give Tony a big hug. :(
> 
> The onion thing was from a Stucky fic I just read and absolutely loved, Sugar Sweet by ColorCoated. <3 <3 <3


	6. Sleigh Rides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers start to get their shit together. And Steve begins to think about what he really wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, alright, alright... I know some of you are just beyond livid with the Avengers at this point. And I don't blame you. Means I'm doing my job. :) But hopefully this chapter will clear some things up. It's time for the team to start the healing process, me thinks. 
> 
> Also - I'm going to try for daily updates now. The operative word being "try." School is out until Jan, and I need this thing to be out of my system before then, so I'm pushing. 
> 
> As usual, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> H&K

Steve POV  
***

It was Natasha that broke the silence after the elevators closed behind Tony.

“There’s something you’re not telling us,” she said, looking directly at Steve. “Stark seemed too upset for this to solely be about the Accords.”

Steve kept his eyes trained on Natasha. She had always been remarkably observant. It was her biggest skill, one that he had grown to rely on heavily over the years. He knew she was looking for tells, for any sign of what he might be hiding. And if he were to glance at Bucky for even a moment, she would know.

“Steve,” Rhodes said, his voice soft, as he rolled toward him. “They need to know.”

A switch flipped inside Steve at Rhodes’ words. Here was a man who had only ever put Tony first, even if it didn’t seem like it to everyone else. But he also knew when to stand up to Tony. Not for the first time, Steve drew the parallels between Rhodes and Tony’s friendship and his own friendship with Bucky. But what Steve had neglected to acknowledge was that he had been Tony’s friend, too. Tony had even said as much, which had broken Steve’s heart. He hadn’t wanted to choose between the two of them, especially with all of the extra he had already been feeling for Tony, but in the end, he had. If only to save lives.

But this wasn’t a life or death situation anymore. And Steve realized in that moment that even after all of this time, after everything, he was still putting Bucky first. Still protecting him. At the expense of Tony.

And didn’t that make him feel like an utter cad.

Steve exhaled harshly as he ran his hand over his face. He tugged on his beard. Then he glanced at Bucky. 

“Sorry, Buck,” he said. And Steve didn’t know why he was surprised when Bucky simply gave Steve a small smirk and a nod.

Refocusing on Natasha, Steve began. 

“We all know Tony’s parents were killed in an car accident,” Steve said. He met Coulson’s gaze, daring him to interrupt, to stop him from exposing the truth. Coulson merely folded his hands in front of him, the ever pleasant smile on his face. “What some of you may not know was that it was no accident. HYDRA were the ones responsible. And what’s more,” Steve paused, taking a steadying breath, “they used the Winter Soldier to execute it.”

Natasha moved faster than Steve had ever seen her move before. One moment, the room lay thick with tension. The next, Natasha had Bucky face down on the ground, his one arm twisted around his back, her knee digging deep into his spine.

“Jesus, Nat,” Clint said, already moving toward her. Then he cast a seething glare toward Coulson. “Why didn’t you say anything? I know you knew.”

Coulson shrugged. “It was a level nine.”

“That is bullshit, Coulson, and you know it,” Nat snapped. “SHIELD fell, Fury was presumed dead. Hell, you were already dead. You could have told us.”

“You’re right. I was dead. What was I supposed to do? Come back just to say, ‘Oh, by the way, Steve Rogers’ best friend, also known as the Winter Soldier, killed Tony Stark’s parents’? What would that have done? What difference would that have made?”

“Enough!” Steve snapped. Nat, Clint and Coulson fell silent. “It doesn’t matter who didn’t tell who. You know now. And you need to know that Bucky wasn’t in his right mind. He was the Winter Soldier. He had no control.”

“Aw, hell, man,” Sam said, lowering his head and shaking it slowly from side to side. “Nat, get off ‘im.” 

Natasha hesitated for just one more moment before she released him. To his credit, Bucky stayed put.

“In my dreams, an image of Tony is reflected in a thousand broken shards of glass,” Wanda said softly. “At first, I did not understand. We have had our disagreements before. But I should have known.” Vision wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tucked her close.

“What happened?” Natasha demanded, focusing in on Steve once again. “Is this what he found out in Siberia?”

Steve nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m not proud of what happened. I knew about HYRDA orchestrating his parents’ deaths, but I didn’t know it was Bucky. Tony took that as a betrayal and immediately went after Bucky. I tried to stop him.” He looked down at his hands, remembering the punches he had let fly against the suit, hoping that Tony’s engineering wouldn’t fail him. “And we tried to run away. Tony stopped us. We fought.”

“Jesus,” Clint said again, running his hands over his face roughly. “No wonder Tony hates us.”

“Friend James,” Thor said, finally taking a moment to enter the conversation. He, too, looked devastated, wearing his broken heart on his sleeve. Both Bucky and Rhodes looked up at Thor, though Thor looked solely at Rhodes. “What is your purpose bringing us here, knowing it would cause Tony such pain?”

“Because he needs you guys,” Rhodes said, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Maybe it was a stupid decision. But my mom raised me to face my issues and solve them, not to run and hide. Tony learned that if you ignore a problem long enough, it will go away. Which we all know isn’t true. Hell, even Tones knows that isn’t true, but that’s what he saw his father doing and that’s the behavior he’s mimicking. And sorry, Cap, but your little love letter? That just made everything worse.”

“Love letter?” Clint repeated. 

Steve felt his face flame. “I sent him a phone and a letter, letting him know I was still there for him and to call me if he needed me.” 

“Ah, sonofabitch,” Sam said, staring to pace around in circles. “This just gets better and better.”

Natasha spat something vicious in Russian, to which Bucky replied in a hushed tone. She whirled and reached down to yank him up by his hair. “You don’t talk to me,” she hissed, then released him. He fell to the ground.

Before Steve could step forward and defend Bucky, Rhodes snapped, “That’s enough, Natasha. You know as well as I do that none of this is Barnes’ fault.”

Clint made his way over to Natasha. He was about to rest his hand on her shoulder when she threw him a glare that halted him mid-motion. Then Natasha knelt beside Bucky, brushed his hair away from his face and whispered softly to him, still in Russian. Steve held his breath, waiting to see if Natasha would strike again, or offer to help. It could go either way and heaven help the poor soul who got in her way.

When Natasha helped Bucky sit up and face the rest of the team, Steve let out the breath.

“Tony needs his family,” Rhodes continued, looking at all of them, a clear challenge on his face. “And like it or not, you’re his family. We need to fix this.”

“I don’t expect you to fix my mistakes for me,” Steve hastened to add, feeling embarrassment creep up his neck.

“Oh, we won’t,” Sam said, leveling a solid look at Steve. “You’ve got some work to do. But who would we be if we didn’t offer some support, right?”

“Right,” Thor said with a grin, walking up and clapping Clint and Coulson on the back. For the first time, Steve saw Coulson look a little… disgruntled.

“If I may?” Vision began, raising his brows as he looked around the room. At Steve’s nod, he continued. “Tony created the artificial intelligence JARVIS, who, as you all know, makes up a healthy portion of my being. I have what you might call memories of Tony, his likes, dislikes, mannerisms.”

“Most of us do by now,” Clint said, then was silenced by a look from Wanda. 

“Yes. However, I am willing to bet that I might be aware of even more personal moments.”

Steve interjected. “Thank you, Vision, but we don’t want to invade Tony’s privacy.”

“No, not at all. What I am trying to say, poorly, is that I have an insight to why he… reacts and behaves the way he does. If any of you find yourselves wondering how Tony might react to something you plan on doing, just ask.”

Rhodes nodded, a small smile forming on his face. Steve felt the tightness that had settled in his chest lighten at the sight. They were doing this. They were going to make sure Tony had his family for Christmas. 

“How about we decorate this place?” Clint suggested. “Like we did at the Tower. Tony’s gotta have his decorations around here somewhere.”

Steve smiled. “Good idea, Clint. FRIDAY, where are Tony’s Christmas decorations?”

“They are located in the north end of the attic, along the wall, in the shelving units.”

“Phil, Thor, and I can go grab those in the morning,” Clint said. Then he gave Steve a sidelong glance. “You should take Tony to go get a Christmas tree.” 

Steve goggled. “What?” 

“Great idea,” Natasha said with a smile. Steve had learned a long time ago to never trust that smile. “Tony really seemed to enjoy it last year.” 

Images of last year’s Christmas tree journey flashed in Steve’s mind. Steve had hauled Tony out of his workshop without so much as an explanation for what they were doing. Tony had whined and huffed his way through the entire ordeal. Steve remembered brushing the falling snow out of Tony’s hair, wanting so badly to lean down and kiss his bright red lips. Instead, he had settled for making Tony pout and laugh.

“Uh,” Steve blinked, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks once again. “You do realize that Tony complained about being too cold and that picking out a tree was somebody else’s job, right?”

Rhodes huffed out a laugh. “That’s Tony for you. But I also remember him demanding that he put the star on top of that tree and that it had to face a certain way because the branches on one side were the best out of the entire lot. He also would get this misty-eyed look every time he stared at the tree. Which was often.” 

Everybody else, except Coulson, nodded in agreement, making Steve question how he had missed all of that. 

“And remember when we had to take it down?” Sam asked, laughing and shaking his head. “Why do you think we had you take Tony out flying that day, Steve?”

Steve remembered that day vividly. Sam had asked that Steve suggest to Tony that they should practice him holding Steve while flying, just in case it was needed during battle. Tony had been all for it and they had spent hours outside, practicing drops and leaps and catches. When they had arrived home that night, to the Christmas tree missing, Tony had grown worryingly silent, staring at the vacant spot in the common room. Then he had left, though he had promised Steve he would eat. Steve had been so confused and ended up bringing a plate down to Tony’s workshop later, only to find that Tony had initiated his blackout protocols. Steve had left the plate at the door.

Suddenly, all of the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. 

“Alright, I’ll take him out to find a Christmas tree,” he said. “But, there’s a slight problem.” 

“What’s that?” Sam asked. 

“Tony banned me from going down to his workshop.”

Rhodes sighed and shook his head. “Of course he did. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

***

Steve stared at the Iron Man figurine on the refrigerator for longer than he cared to admit. He had just come in from his early morning run around Manhattan, after having originally planned on staying close to the house. But the moment he stepped outside into the snow and saw all of the New Yorkers out and about, Steve couldn’t resist taking a tour through the whole island, including Central Park and Rockefeller Center. 

It had been too long. He’d missed his home.

He had tried to convince Bucky to come with him, but Bucky had simply stuck a middle finger out from beneath the covers. Steve had taken that as his cue to leave Buck alone. Sam had joined him for a few miles, but ultimately turned back, stating that it was good to know Steve was still crazy.

And, though he knew it was selfish of him, Steve had been glad for the alone time. He needed to get his head on straight.

Last night had been a mess, to put it lightly. Steve had never felt more embarrassed or more alone than he had after he had explained what happened. He knew it needed to happen, and he was more than grateful that the team was rising to action for Tony. Tony deserved it. He deserved everything. 

It was Steve that didn’t.

Steve stared at the small Iron Man magnet on the refrigerator, afraid it would disappear if he blinked. 

Tony had kept it. Even after everything. Not only had he kept it, but he had moved it from the Tower to this house. 

It had been a silly impulse buy, more to tease Tony about his ego than anything else. He remembered feeling taken aback and flattered when Tony promptly declared it the best gift he had ever received and that he would keep it always. Tony had stuck it on the refrigerator in the common kitchen, then glared at everyone, making a promise that anybody who dared to remove it would suffer a point blank repulsor blast. He had then rattled off some numbers as to the impact, which flew right over everyone’s head until Vision compared it to the impact of a car traveling around forty miles per hour. Everyone had winced and nodded. 

Steve couldn’t resist touching the little Iron Man, just to really make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He raised his hand, resting the pad of his index finger against the cold, hard plastic. His heart give a strong lurch in his chest. He didn’t want to look more than he should into why Tony had kept the toy, but he wanted to _hope_.

Clint stumbled into the kitchen, startling Steve from his reflective thoughts. He turned to face the commotion, well used to Clint’s antics first thing in the morning. 

“Coffee,” Clint moaned, glaring blearily around the kitchen. 

Steve chuckled. “Sit down, Clint. I’ll take care of it.”

Clint mumbled something to himself before he plopped into one of the high-backed dining room chairs and rested the side of his face against the dark wood. Steve took a moment to commit the picture to memory. Maybe he could draw it for Natasha or Coulson.

At another pitiful moan, Steve turned to the coffee pot, which, thankfully, was the same one that had been in the kitchen back at the Tower. Clint and Tony had both taught him how to use it, each claiming that their particular way of operating the machine was ideal. It had taken a few weeks of operating the machine until Steve had proclaimed they were both wrong. He had been met with dark stares and gloomy silences. 

Steve prepped the machine per Clint’s preferences and let the coffee percolate. Opening up the refrigerator, steadfastly ignoring the Iron Man magnet, Steve began to pull out eggs, sausage, bacon, mushrooms, cheese, a bell pepper, and spinach. Everybody liked different combinations in their omelets, and Steve found the process very soothing. 

“What will it be today, Clint?” Steve asked, placing a large mug full of coffee in front of him. He also placed the sugar bowl and a small jar he had filled with creamer in front of him. He didn’t dare doctor up Clint’s coffee. He had tried once, and had yet to hear the end of it.

“Marry me,” Clint moaned, sticking his nose above the cup of coffee and inhaling deeply. Then he reached for the cream and sugar. He peaked over at the counter Steve was working on. “Are those mushrooms?” he asked. “I want those.”

“You got it,” Steve said. He left the remainder of the coffee in the pot, knowing the scent would start attracting the others downstairs shortly.

Steve mixed and chopped and stirred. He found his old rhythm and let his mind drift back to yesterday.

Steve loved it when Tony fought for his beliefs and ideas. Even though Steve had disagreed with the Sokovia Accords, Steve had been in awe of Tony’s dedication and ruthlessness in the aftermath. Who knew there was a boy out there who could crawl up walls and swing around like a spider? Or a man that could shrink or grow at the touch of a button? Tony had found them through sheer determination. That character trait had been what led to the creation of Iron Man. Seeing it in action again last night, while Tony spoke about what he believed him, as angry and upset as he had been, reminded Steve of all that he had been missing and wanting. 

Irrationally, and more than a bit selfishly, Steve wondered what it would feel like to have all that determination and ruthlessness focused on Tony wanting him. 

Steve cleared his throat as he finished whipping up the eggs and poured them into the pan. He sprinkled mushrooms and cheese on top and let it cook.

The only thing he hadn’t liked about watching Tony yesterday had been the amount of pure hurt that had radiated from him. Sure, Tony had tried to hide it behind his public smile and snarky comments, but he had taken that jab at Sam because he had been cornered. Tony was very much like a cat in every way. He decided if he liked you or not, and if he did, he demanded pets and praise. But if you pissed him off or cornered him in away way, the fangs and claws would come flying.

And, oh, how Steve wanted to just gather him into his lap and sooth his ruffled fur and listen to him purr.

Instead, he had been banned from Tony’s workshop. The decision had been worth it at the time, because Steve had believed that getting Tony upstairs and with the team had been the right move. But now, in the aftermath of all of that, Steve felt helpless. Clueless. He didn’t know how to get Tony’s attention if he wasn’t even allowed back in Tony’s space. It had been hard enough to not go down there last night while he lay restless on his bed covers, to go and beg Tony to forgive him. Back in the Tower, it wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to spend their sleepless nights together in the workshop, creating what they were best at. Sometimes they would talk about nothing, other times they wouldn’t utter a word to each other. But it had been a comfort to have Tony near in those lonely hours. He realized he had hoped he could have it back when he returned to the States, but even that had been taken from him along with everything else.

Perhaps rightfully so.

“You ‘bout done mooning over there, Cap?” Clint drawled. “My omelet’s burning.”

Steve startled from his thoughts and bit off a curse before he could let it fly. Sure enough, the omelet was beginning to brown around the edges. Steve folded it over on top of itself, wincing at the slightly singed state of it. He slipped the omelet onto a plate and set it aside. 

“Sorry. I’ll make you a new one,” Steve said, already turning to break more eggs into the bowl. 

“Nah, it’s fine, man. I’ll take that one. I’ve had worse.” Clint rose from the table and reached out for the omelet before Steve could protest. Clint leaned one hip against the counter, plate in hand, cutting into the eggs with a fork. “But, as payment, you’re going to have to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours,” he said around a mouthful of egg.

Steve shook his head, disbelieving. Clint had always been the most observant of the group. Not only was he the best sharpshooter in the world, rivaling only Bucky, he cared enough about his team to notice when they weren’t feeling alright. This hadn’t been the first time Clint cornered him about his issues, and it wouldn’t likely be the last. 

The thing about Clint though, was that while he was observant, he usually only approached those who needed to talk about it. And if someone said they weren’t ready to talk about it, Clint would back off and be there when they were ready. Steve marveled at how Clint could do that, like he had a sixth sense for it or something. 

Clint waited, patient as ever, while Steve prepped another omelet. Nobody else was coming that Steve could hear, so he topped the eggs with what he wanted. Keeping his hands busy, Steve began to talk.

“It all seems too simple,” he said, then frowned and chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “All it took was me telling you guys what really happened, why Tony and I fought in Siberia, and suddenly everything’s okay? But it’s not okay.” 

Steve flipped the omelet over and slid it onto his plate and stared at it, his roaring appetite amazingly gone for once. Still, he knew he needed to eat. As he picked up his fork, he realized that while he had been talking, he hadn’t made an omelet with his favorite toppings. He had made one for Tony. Steve sighed and put the fork down.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Cap,” Clint began, polishing off his omelet and setting the plate aside. “But it’s not all about you.”

Steve looked up at Clint, eyes narrowed. “I know that.”

Clint shook his head. “I think there are two issues here and you need to untangle them a bit.” Clint held up one finger. “One, the Avengers. Yes, we have our own shit to work through, but that’s a team thing and we can fix it as a team.”

“But as the leader –” Steve began.

“No. Stop.” Clint interrupted. “No offense, really, but we can’t have a leader if we don’t even know what we’re doing. We’re all on equal footing here.”

Steve stopped and stared. Logically, he knew Clint had a point. A good one. And, if Steve was being honest with himself, having somebody else say it was a relief. 

“That doesn’t mean that you can’t help us to get our shit together and talk it out,” Clint said. “We are just a band of misfit toys after all.”

Steve smiled. “I understood that one.”

“Damn right you did. I didn’t suffer through all those Christmas movies year after year for nothing. Last night helped. It did. And it’s a beginning. So let that go for now.” Clint narrowed his eyes on Steve. “The second issue you’re struggling with is your feelings for Tony Stark.”

Freezing, Steve continued to stare at Clint. Though Bucky had called him on it yesterday, too, it still felt very strange to have another person say it aloud. 

“Am I that obvious?” Steve muttered, turning back to his omelet. His stomach clenched and roiled, but he forced himself to eat, to behave as normally as he could. 

“Not to the average joe. But you are surrounded by spies,” Clint said. “You need to think about how you are going to handle the Tony situation on a personal level before we can come together as a team. Whether you choose to pursue it or not, it will have an impact on what happens to us.”

Steve knew Clint was right. He hated to admit it, but it was true. If Steve chose to pursue his feelings and try to court Tony, it could backfire on all of them. Or it could be the best thing to ever happen to Steve and, subsequently, the team. If Steve chose not to pursue Tony, trying instead to be his friend again, that would also impact the status of the Avengers. Steve knew the safe thing, the easy thing to do would be to let his feelings for Tony go and try to be friends with him again. Or at least cordial. 

His heart wrenched at that idea and Steve couldn’t control the wince. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Steve admitted. He set the half-eaten omelet aside and braced his hands on the countertop, leaning into them and lowering his head. “I know what will be best for the team, but…” 

“Steve,” Clint said, softly, gaining Steve’s attention. “Screw the team. Don’t you think it’s time to put yourself first for once?”

“I did that already and look how that turned out,” Steve growled, fingers tightening on the countertop. It groaned beneath his strength. 

“I think that’s a little different. You were looking out for your friend. You were looking out for us. You didn’t trust the Accords. That wasn’t a personal decision. That was a decision you made to protect the team.”

Steve grit his teeth. Clint was right, he knew he was right. But what was he going to do about it?

Before he could think any more on it, he heard several pairs of footsteps and the soft whir of Rhodes’ exoskeleton approaching. Steve straightened and began to crack more eggs. 

“What’ll it be, fellas?” he asked as Rhodes, Bucky, and Coulson entered the kitchen. 

Clint stuck his empty plate in this sink and patted Steve’s shoulder in passing. “If you need me, I’m here. And good luck dragging Tony out for that tree today.”

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “Thanks, Clint.”


	7. Decorations of Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve convinces Tony to go get a Christmas tree with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squeeee! It's happening, folks. :) 
> 
> And mistakes are still mine. Fair warning - I've run out of pre-written chapters. So, as I write and post more frequently, you might be seeing more mistakes. I'm sorry in advance. I'll go back and clean it up once it's done. Thanks for being patient!

Tony POV  
***

Tony glanced over his shoulder as he walked into the large kitchen. Something seemed off. The place looked deserted but if Tony had learned anything from living with spies before it was that looks could be deceiving. 

And really, he wouldn’t have even had to come up to the main kitchen if something hadn’t possessed DUM-E to completely shatter his coffee maker. Not just the pot. The entire machine. That took a whole new level of talent from the bot and Tony wasn’t sure if he should be feeling excitement or wariness. DUM-E was probably overdue for a routine diagnostic anyway. He added it to his to-do list.

In the meantime, he needed coffee. He already had FRIDAY place an order for a replacement coffee machine, extra-industrial strength, but they were backordered until tomorrow. Tony had tried to convince FRIDAY to just find another coffee machine to have delivered ASAP, but she had enacted the “Pepper Protocol,” which restricted his daily purchases of coffee machines, apparently. The idea had left Tony tongue tied for all of a minute before he began to bark an order to call Pepper. That had resulted in a rather humiliating phone conversation that Tony hoped he could forget soon.

Now, Tony was sneaking around his own house, his own kitchen, to brew his own coffee in his own coffee pot. 

Such was life.

Tony had hoped that in light of his exposition yesterday evening that the former Avengers would get a clue and leave. But they hadn’t. They had all stayed. Each and every one of them. In fact, he was pretty sure he heard Sam with Rhodey during his physical therapy session that morning. When Rhodey brought lunch by, a sandwich made by the All-American hero, Tony had asked, to which Rhodey simply shook his head and went to hang out with DUM-E. Tony had ignored the sandwich for all of two minutes before he remembered how delicious Steve’s roast beef sandwiches were. He ignored Rhodey’s knowing look.

The clock on the wall and the dim light outside signified that it was late afternoon. Not like it mattered to Tony. He was going on hour thirty-eight without sleep, or so FRIDAY had warned him when he had been trying to rectify his coffee situation, and he knew he could keep it up for another twenty-four hours easily. It was a perfect opportunity to work on some of those R&D schematics in the pipeline. He really should look into who was a part of the hiring process for his R&D department. But the last time he had asked, Pepper had rolled her eyes and stomped away. As though that was supposed to mean anything to him.

Coffee. Tuning back in, Tony quickly glanced around, not noticing a soul. That didn’t mean anything though. He wasn’t super human, or a demi-god. He didn’t even think to don his Iron Man helmet. Not for the first time, he found his basic human form wanting. 

Tony ground the coffee beans, a fresh batch straight from Kona, thank you very much, and poured them into the coffee machine. Not for the first time did Tony wish that he had ignored Steve and Clint’s request for a basic, easy-to-use coffee machine. His own coffee machine, before DUM-E had reenacted _The Terminator_ death scene with it, only required that the user punch one button. But apparently that was difficult to figure out, so Tony had been forced to buy a machine where the user not only had to measure and grind up the coffee beans before-hand, but add the water, too. It even needed those little paper filters. The first time Tony has used this particular pot back at the Tower, he had stared at the muddy substance it had produced for five minutes before he realized he had forgotten to use a filter. 

Simpler, indeed.

Tony watched impatiently as the coffee percolated, the slow drip of the brown liquid both enticing and anxiety inducing. The mansion was filled to the brim with super heroes. It seemed mighty suspicious that they would all be gone. 

Maybe they went out. Tony peered out the window of the kitchen. The snow hadn’t melted one bit since yesterday, and it was beginning to come down in soft whirls of flakes. It had been a while since they were home, and it would be a bit of a risk for them to expose themselves outside, but these were spies. They knew what they were doing.

He wondered what they would do. Shop? For what? Maybe they were planning an epic snowball war. Or maybe Steve convinced them all to go ice skating. Despite having spent so much time in the ice himself, Steve seemed to love the winter weather. He had once told Tony it reminded him of home, and that New York looked even more like the city he had left behind all those years ago.

Tony had an irrational burst of jealousy that they might be off doing something together without him. Really, he had brought that on himself. His sharp tongue had gotten him into enough trouble before, he should know better than to let it loose. As tempting as it usually was. 

But really, it was all Rhodey’s fault. Tony could be man enough to admit that he had missed the team, missed the comradery, the sense of family that had developed between them, but he also knew it was better that they not be there. Having them home was like rubbing salt on a gaping wound.

So, he would go back to his workshop and pretend they didn’t exist until they all left. Seemed like a sound plan. 

“Got enough in there for two cups?” 

Tony startled from his vacant stare out of the kitchen window. Then cursed himself. Even with his human ears, he should have been able to hear Steve approaching. Steve usually made a conscious effort to let others know he was coming, after being at the bad end of a few unfortunate accidents. You don’t sneak up on spies in their own house.

It took all Tony’s effort to avoid glancing at Steve. He couldn’t look at the man. Every time, the ache in him seemed to grow bigger and bigger. Instead, he focused on the coffee pot, seeing that it had finished brewing.

How long had Tony been staring out that window?

“Yeah, there’s enough,” Tony said, reaching into the cupboard overhead and drawing out two plain green mugs. He knew there was a mug for each of the Avengers, tucked away in the back corner of the cupboard, but he wasn’t about to dig around for those. How embarrassing. 

Pouring two cups, Tony slid one down the counter toward Steve, hardly glancing his way. Sliding the pot back onto the warmer, Tony briefly considered unplugging the whole lot and taking it down to the shop with him. Really, that’s what he should have done to begin with, and risked the wrath of Hawkeye and Black Widow.

Tony gripped his mug tight with both hands and turned away from Steve, ready to bolt out of the kitchen without another word. 

“You gonna do that again?” Steve asked, his tone irritatingly pleasant, almost teasing. 

“Do what?” Tony asked before he could think better of it.

“Run away from me.”

Tony whirled, coffee sloshing dangerously in his mug as he gaped at Steve. That perfect face held the briefest hint of a smirk, his eyes twinkling with a dare even as he raised his mug to those perfect lips. Tony’s eyes focused on that point, wondering what the coffee would taste like being lapped from those lips.

Shaking himself, Tony glared at Steve as he took a hasty swig of his own mug, wincing as the hot liquid scalded his tongue. He set the mug aside and folded his arms across his chest. 

“Who’s running?” he said, leaning one hip against the countertop.

“You’ve been, ever since I arrived.” Steve gave a good natured shrug, looking down into his cup. “There was the foyer, then again in the living room last night. And don’t bother denying wanting to run away from me when I was in your workshop yesterday. I saw you making sure your suit was within reach and then you banned me from the shop.”

Tony pinched the inside of his arm, hidden from Steve’s view. A variation on his mother’s coping technique. He should have known that Steve would be keeping a mental tally, as observant as he was. The denials were ready, primed even, right on the tip of his tongue. But then Steve raised an eyebrow, as though to say “I double dog dare you,” even though he probably had no idea what a “double dog dare” really was.

“Can you blame me?” Tony said, once again knowing he should just hold his tongue and walk away. But as always, he had no self-control. “The last time you and I were in close quarters, you buried your shield in my chest.”

Even though he knew it was the wrong thing to say, he couldn’t help but feel a thousand times worse as the words hit home. Steve’s face absolutely crumpled, his eyes and mouth squeezing shut, his jaw tight. Steve turned his face away, as though to hide the reaction from Tony, but it was too little, too late. 

Tony wanted to hit himself. He knew he deserved every punch and blow Steve had ever given him. And more.

“I deserve that.”

The words were so quiet, it took Tony a moment to recognize them for what they were. He froze. 

It wasn’t exactly an apology. Steve had apologized for everything else that had happened between them, except that one crucial moment, a moment that tore away any shred of trust Tony might have had left in Steve. And it wasn’t until that moment that Tony realized he really wanted that apology. But he wouldn’t beg for it. He wouldn’t let his snarky shots cheapen it. He needed Steve to apologize on his own, or it would mean nothing.

“No, you don’t,” Tony said on a sigh, releasing his arms and grabbing for his coffee cup once again. Thankfully, it had cooled enough to not burn his mouth when he took another hasty gulp. “I’ve been a bitch about all this,” Tony waved a hand around. “You were right about that yesterday. It’s a lot to work through.”

Steve nodded, now staring down into his own cup, though he looked a little more relaxed.

“Yeah, I can understand that. It’s not a walk in the park on this end either.” 

And that was enough of a heart-to-heart for Tony.

“Well, good talk, Ca–” Tony cut off the word before he could pop out the _p_. He had stripped Steve of that when he had demanded the shield back. “Rogers,” he added swiftly, though he knew the damage had been done. He turned once again and began to stride out of the kitchen.

“I thought we just talked about this, Tony,” Steve called behind him, challenge in his voice. 

Tony wanted to ignore him. In fact, he did ignore him for all of two steps, until his curiosity got the better of him. He stopped, not deigning to turn back. 

“What?” he said on a resigned sigh.

“You’re running.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Tony blustered aloud, throwing a hand up in the air as he turned back to face Steve. “What do you want from me?” 

That had been the wrong question to ask. Tony realized this the moment Steve’s eyes brightened and a smile spread on his face. 

“Come out with me.”

Tony froze. “What?”

“Come out with me. This house needs a tree. Let’s go get it.”

It took a few more precious seconds for the words to make any sense to Tony and when they did, Tony really wanted more than anything to run. To hell with what Steve had just been telling him.

There was no way he could go out and get a Christmas tree with Steve. Not now. Not after last year.

“No.”

Steve impossibly looked even more amused. “Chicken.”

Tony’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

He knew Steve was trying to get a rise out of him. He _knew_ it. He should just turn back around and head back to his workshop, ignore Steve. Refuse to rise to his goading. 

“Fine.” Tony drained his cup with a few quick swallows, then strode over to Steve and snapped the mug down on the countertop next to him. “You wanna play dirty? Let’s go.”

He hadn’t meant for that to turn into an innuendo. But the way Steve’s cheeks flushed such a pretty pink made Tony realize his mistake. But like hell would he draw attention to it now. 

“I’ll meet you in the foyer in fifteen,” he said, stepping away and heading toward the elevator, only this time, he punched the button that would take him to the master suite. He wasn’t going out into the city looking and smelling like he hadn’t slept and bathed in over thirty-six hours.

“Looking forward to it,” Steve called softly behind him.

Tony didn’t let himself dwell on it all as he raced through a shower and into clean clothes. He ran a towel over his hair, catching most of the moisture, then teased mousse through it to make it look artfully disheveled. He slipped on a pair of flattering jeans, one of the few that weren’t torn or stained to hell, a black cashmere sweater, and a pair of boots. He dabbed on the barest hint of cologne, reminding himself all the while that this wasn’t a date. They were just getting a stupid Christmas tree. That’s all. Still, he paused for a moment in front of the full length mirror, looking with a critical eye at what Steve might see. 

Tony looked tired. Good and attractive, but definitely tired. 

Nothing he could do about that now. 

Tony saw Steve standing by the front door, already bundled up in a brown leather jacket and a thick scarf tied around his neck. Steve's eyes brightened when they caught sight of Tony. 

“You’re late,” Steve said, even as he turned toward the coat closet and reached inside. 

“Art takes time. You should know this,” Tony said, his lips quirking up to one side as he listened to Steve’s light laugh fill the room. Strange, he still felt tense around Steve, his heart still wanting to gallop away of its own accord, but for a much different reason than before. 

“Alright, Michelangelo,” Steve muttered, turning back around, Tony’s black pea coat in hand. Tony had forgotten he owned that thing. Steve held it open and Tony realized with horror that he intended to put it on Tony. 

Tony stared with wide eyes long enough for Steve to roll his own a huff out a sigh. Before Tony could dodge it, Steve had come around the side and slipped one of Tony’s arms into one sleeve and brought the coat around behind him. On reflex, Tony lifted his other arm and slipped it down the opposite sleeve. He felt Steve’s fingers brush his upper shoulder and neck, their warmth seeping into him. Tony barely repressed a shudder and stepped away as quickly as he could.

Without a word, Steve walked back to the coat closet and reached in for one more thing. He held out a scrap of cloth to Tony, bright red and gold. Tony almost laughed at the fabric before he realized what it meant. 

“You want me to wear a scarf? What, are we hiking across town for this tree?”

Steve merely grinned. 

“Of course we are,” Tony muttered, snatching the scarf from Steve. Like hell was he going to allow the man to wrap it around his neck. No matter how much he might want him to.

Tony stiffened against the thought. He was only doing this to prove to Steve that he wasn’t a chicken. That he wouldn’t just run away. 

Even though they both knew that wasn’t true.

Steve held the front door open for him and a snap of cold air hit Tony square in the face. He ducked his head into the meager warmth the scarf provided, sticking his hands into his coat pockets. The fact that there was no car, no Happy, waiting for them in the wrap around driveway made Tony glower further. 

“You’re really making me do this,” Tony said, some of the anger and frustration already melting away. He couldn’t help but feel a small kindle of warmth start low in his belly. 

“Yup, I’m really making you do this,” Steve said easily, boots already crunching away in the icy snow. “Coming?”

Tony huffed a disgruntled sigh, though there was no energy behind it. He watched Steve’s tall frame navigate the snow with wide steps, face lifted up to look at the darkening sky. 

“Isn’t it beautiful? The sunset. The fresh air. The snow is practically glowing.” Steve’s tone was reverent. 

Tony took a moment to try to see the world as Steve saw it. To him, the place was dreary, darkening, cold, and lonely. But to Steve talk about the scene, it was full of beauty, magic, with some sort of promise. Tony tried to see what the fuss was all about, but in the end, he simply shook his head and trudged along behind Steve. 

“It’s cold,” he grumbled. 

Steve laughed. Tony’s gaze whipped up to watch as Steve turned, his face crinkled with laugh lines, the light, warm sound booming off the walls. His cheeks were already pink from the cold, his lips red. The sight filled Tony with a kind of wonder he never thought he’d feel again. 

Maybe this was what Steve had been trying to share with him.

Tony shoved the thought away and brushed passed Steve. 

“Hurry up, before all the good trees are taken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're not familiar with The Terminator's gruesome ending, or need a reminder, *spoilers* he's basically blown in half and then smashed to death.


	8. On a Green Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony go and get that tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a brief respite, a glimpse into, a remembering of their old friendship.
> 
> But it might not last. Fair warning. 
> 
> And all mistakes are mine. Enjoy!

Steve POV  
***

“Bah, I knew all the good trees would be gone,” Tony whined on a huff. Steve watched in amusement as Tony weaved in and out of the rows of trees, barely stopping long enough to scrutinize them. 

“You haven’t even looked at one long enough to make that determination,” Steve protested, turning back to the tree he had been inspecting. It was a tall one, with thick, heavy branches, and it would do the mansion’s vaulted ceilings justice. “What do you think about this one?” he asked. 

Tony waved a dismissive hand in the air. “The top is crooked.”

Steve leaned back to peer at the top. Sure enough, the top bow bent off to one side. 

“Shame,” he mumbled, moving on to the next tree.

Tony fairly buzzed around while Steve took his time. This had happened last year, too. Tony had all but written each tree off when Steve had found their winner nestled behind two other trees. Steve had good-naturedly rubbed it in until Tony had snapped and stomped away in a fit of pique. It had taken Steve a couple of really long blocks of apologizing before Tony forgave him enough to let Steve buy him a coffee to warm up his hands.

“What about this one?” Steve asked, more to get Tony to stop running around. He should have known better when Tony once again rattled off its flaws with hardly a second glance. 

Steve knew he should be disappointed, but instead, he was happy. Even amused. He had wanted to spend time with Tony, of course, but he couldn’t help but be entertained by Tony’s antics. Tony was impatient, quick to form opinions, and, maybe most importantly, very detailed oriented. He was a genius. He saw choosing a Christmas tree as a challenge, whereas Steve saw it as a journey. He knew he should want Tony to slow down and experience the journey with him, but at the same time, he was happier to see Tony just being himself. 

“Wait!” 

Steve headed toward the direction Tony’s voice came from, the next aisle over. He found Tony half buried between the trees, his coat catching the sharp needles and scattering them all over the ground. Steve bit his lip to keep from laughing at the sight of Tony’s rear-end sticking straight out, teetering on his tip-toes, pushing himself into the trees further. 

But just because he didn’t laugh didn’t mean he would deny himself the opportunity to fully appreciate the view. 

It took him much longer than it should have to realize Tony was struggling to yank out another tree. Steve’s stomach swooped with the sensation of déjà vu and rushed forward to grab the tree from Tony.

“Again? The best tree is hiding?” Steve said on a chuckle as he took the tree. 

“At least I spotted it this time,” Tony said, nose stuck up in the air as he fell back on his heels. Steve rolled his eyes as he shook his head, hefting the tree out. 

He gave a low whistle as he took in the sight of the tree. It stood at just over eight feet tall, with wide, sturdy branches. The rich green of the round needles clued Steve in that this was a noble fir, perfectly trimmed and lush all the way around. 

“I’d say you have,” Steve said with a grin. “It’s perfect.”

“Great,” Tony said, tone curt though Steve could see the pleasure in his warm brown eyes. “Let’s pay for the damn thing already. You owe me a coffee.”

Steve grinned, finding a solid grip on the lower branches before hoisting it over one shoulder. This time Tony snorted and shook his head. 

“Show off.”

As they walked down the sidewalk, Steve spotted a familiar sign. On cue, his stomach gave a loud growl. 

Tony stopped and looked over at Steve, eyes wide with disbelief. Steve gave him a sheepish look and as much of a shrug as he could with half a tree over his shoulders. 

“Oh, for the love of Pete. Who is Pete anyway?” Tony grumbled, marching up to the familiar diner. They had eaten there a few times before. Steve believed they had the best pie in the entire city. Tony had tried to disprove it by buying Steve nearly every other pie the city had to offer, but Steve held true that this diner surpassed all others. And then Steve confessed to Tony that it reminded him of home. After that, Tony had made it a point to bring Steve back when he could, between meetings and avenging. 

“The tree, Tony,” Steve said. “We can’t just leave it out here.” 

“Sure we can,” Tony quipped. He walked up to a complete stranger, a young kid dressed in skinny black jeans, ratty canvas shoes, and a torn denim jacket with patches. The kid looked cold. Dazzling smile already in place, Tony said, “Hi, I’m Tony Stark.”

The pedestrian gaped at the man. “Holy shit, dude,” he said, sticking his hand out.

To Tony’s credit, he didn’t sneer down at the hand, like Steve knew he wanted to. He hated having things handed to him, especially stranger’s hands. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his money clip. He flipped out a few bills, one-hundred dollar bills Steve’s sharp eye caught, and slipped them into the kid’s hand. 

“My friend and I are hungry. Would you mind watching our tree for us? We’ll buy you anything else you want from the diner, too.”

The kid grinned, looking as though he had won the lottery. “Absolutely, sir!” 

Steve bit his tongue, not liking this one bit. That kid probably had places to go and things to do. Who was Tony to just expect to hire anybody on the street to watch a tree?

Before he could protest, Tony was already tugging the tree down from Steve’s shoulders. 

“Hey, wait a minute, aren’t you –” the kid began, eyes widening at the sight of Steve. 

“Nope, not the guy you think he is.” Tony peeled off another couple hundred and stuck it into the kid’s jacket pocket. The kid understood the message and pressed his smiling lips together, nodding all the while. He gripped the tree, already pulling out his cell phone to entertain himself for the next while.

Tony and Steve entered the diner, Steve casting glances over his shoulder. Tony demanded a window booth, to which Steve was grateful. Tony knew Steve needed to keep an eye on the kid and the tree. 

“Out with it,” Tony said after they placed their drink orders. Steve raised an eyebrow. Tony sighed. “I can feel the disapproval radiating off of you. Let’s try something new. Talking.”

Steve felt amusement cut through his irritation. “Perish the thought.”

“I know,” Tony said on a sigh. The server came back with a pot of coffee and filled Tony’s mug. Tony poured in a healthy dose of cream and sugar. He only ever did that with diner coffee. One of these days, Steve would ask why. “But humor me.”

Steve nodded, accepting the Coke from the server. He perused the menu, though he already knew what he would be ordering. It was more an excuse to not look up into Tony’s sharp gaze. 

“That kid probably had better things to do than to stand out in the cold to watch some stranger’s tree,” Steve began. “Seriously, that kid must be freezing. Did you see what he was wearing?” He looked back out the window and watched as the boy danced back and forth to keep warm, the tree wobbling dangerously.

Tony remained silent for a moment longer, prompting Steve to turn back toward him. He watched as Tony stared down into his coffee, his fingers white-knuckled on the handle of the mug.

“I also just gave that kid around five-hundred dollars to stand and watch a tree for a half hour,” Tony said. “Think about what he could do with that kind of money, especially this time of the year. He could buy himself a new coat. Or maybe buy his mother a new coat. He’s probably already shopping on his phone for what to get his girlfriend for Christmas. Or boyfriend.” Tony let go of his mug and tugged Steve’s menu down and away, his eyes earnest. “I know you don’t approve, but I could have picked anybody off that sidewalk and they probably would have done it. So, I picked the person I thought needed it the most. Maybe that’s judgmental of me, but his reaction was all I needed to feel okay with my decision.”

Steve bent his head, shame washing through him. Once again, he had jumped to conclusions. He knew Tony was a giver, always looking out for others. He wouldn’t have become a superhero otherwise. But Steve had conveniently ignored that because he had been too quick to judge. 

It made him realize he may have been too quick to judge other things. 

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve said, looking back up into Tony’s widened eyes. He could lose himself for hours in their depths. He wondered what they would look like, sleepy and satiated. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Tony asked, surprised. 

“For telling me. For explaining. For making sure we talked about it before I got all…” Steve trailed off, choosing to finish the sentence with his hands, twisting and turning them in the air between them. 

Their server arrived to take their orders. Tony ordered for them both, remembering their regulars perfectly, including Steve’s preference for no pickles on his bacon cheeseburger. 

“And add two slices of apple pie to that,” Tony gave the server a wink and passed the menus back to her. She blushed prettily before rushing away. 

Steve shook his head. “Your memory always astounds me, though I know it shouldn’t by now.”

“I should have asked if that was what you wanted,” Tony said, a line appearing between his brows. 

Steve smiled. “When have I ever ordered anything different here? It’s fine. Thank you.”

Tony nodded, falling silent, fiddling with his fork and napkin. 

At a loss for what to talk about, Steve looked back out the window at their tree and the young man holding it up, jamming to whatever was playing on those earbuds he had stuck in his ears. 

“How’s Barnes adjusting?” Tony asked. 

Steve looked back at Tony, who was still focused on his silverware and napkin. He had started to involve the other condiments, staging them into a familiar pattern on top of the unfolded napkin. Steve grinned. Diner chess. It had been a while since they had played, but between Tony’s genius and Steve’s strategic mind, they had found themselves quite evenly matched. 

He reached out and pushed a Concord Grape packet forward. “He’s doing okay, I think. T’Challa’s team reversed the brainwashing HYDRA had done on him.” 

Tony pushed a Splenda packet forward. “He told me he remembers them. All of them.”

Steve froze for a moment before he made his move on their makeshift chessboard. “Yes.”

“Is he seeing anybody about that? I have some contacts if he needs to…” Tony let the words die off. 

Steve smiled, countering the move Tony just made. Just like Tony to offer to help, despite what had happened. 

“Unfortunately, there’s the matter of us being fugitives at the moment,” Steve said. “But I’m sure he would be grateful.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, ‘grateful’ wouldn’t be the word I’d choose. And you know I have enough money that your criminal status wouldn’t be an issue. Just,” Tony finally met his eyes, “let him know, would you?”

“Yeah, sure,” Steve said. 

They played in silence for a few more minutes before Tony spoke up again. Steve nearly grinned when he did. Tony could never stay quiet for long.

“How about the arm? Is T’Challa taking care of that, too?” 

“He was,” Steve said with a nod. “Not sure about that now. We did kind of leave without explanation. I was… I was afraid he’d stop us. Not sure if we’ll even be welcome back at this point.”

“I can –” Tony started, but Steve shook his head. 

“No, I’ll handle it. You’ve done enough, Tony. Really.” Steve gave him a small smile. “I’m happy to be home. Here.” He took a breath. “With you.”

Tony froze mid-motion, his hand atop a Strawberry Jelly packet. 

“Steve,” he began, only to be interrupted by the arrival of their food. 

“Thank you,” Steve said to the server, then turned his attention to the food. He felt ravenous. After a few bites, he looked up to see Tony hadn’t touched his own food. He realized Tony had been trying to say something earlier. “Tony?”

Tony shook his head, as though to clear it. Then he gave a quick upturn to his lips, not even a real smile, before he began to eat. “It’s nothing.”

Steve put his burger down and wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin. “It’s not nothing. Come on. Let’s try that talking thing again. It worked well the last time.”

“Are you really happy to be here?” Tony blurted out, then looked scandalized. “Shit, sorry. Forget I said that. Just eat, for the love of God.” Tony turned back to his food, poking and pushing at it with his fork.

Steve smiled, the fondness he felt for Tony growing exponentially larger. “Tony.” He waited until Tony looked back up at him, his face carefully blank. “This is the happiest I’ve been in months. Since before the Sokovia Accords.”

“About that,” Tony said, but Steve held up a hand. He could see that Tony wanted to deflect the conversation to something other than himself, and if the Accords were convenient, he’d latch onto them.

“Tony, I promise, we can talk about the Accords later. We should talk about them. But not right now. Please. Just know I’m happy to be here. And I’m glad Rhodes called me.”

Silence stretched between them. Then Tony asked, in a small voice, “Why?”

Steve didn’t need to think too hard for his answer. “Because the holidays should be spent with those you love. I’ve missed all of you.”

Tony’s mouth opened, then shut. Then opened again. And shut once more. Steve watched as Tony’s hand clutched his fork, then abandoned it for the coffee mug. He brought it up to his mouth, taking a large swallow before lowering the mug and grabbing for the fork again. He was a mess of motion, and Steve loved watching every movement. Because he could. 

“I want to work on an arm for Barnes,” Tony blurted. 

And though Steve knew Tony just wanted to change the topic, that didn’t stop the shock from coursing through him. He sucked in a deep breath and cleared his throat. 

“You’ll have to talk to Buck about that,” Steve hedged. He knew having Tony engineer a new arm for Buck would be more than he could have ever wished for, because Tony was just that good, but ultimately, it was Buck who had to live with it. And could he live with Stark technology, knowing what he had done with the last arm?

“I will,” Tony said simply, shaking off the rest of their conversation and diving into his food. “Now hurry up and eat before the poor kid out there freezes to death.”

Steve ate with gusto, half paying attention to their impromptu chess game. At one point, Tony left without a word, but Steve watched as he stepped outside with a to-go cup full of hot coffee and to get the kid’s order. Tony placed it with their server and paid for it all up at the counter while Steve cleaned up their mess.

“Hey, I wasn’t done beating you,” Tony complained once he headed back to their table. 

Steve chuckled. “You were four steps away from winning and you know it. But if it makes you feel better, I concede the match,” Steve said. 

“It does, thank you.” 

They slipped their jackets on before heading back outside to relieve the kid of their tree. Tony peeled off another few hundred dollar bills and handed it to the kid, who goggled even more, singing his praises. 

Steve shook his head in fond exasperation even as he hoisted the tree back up. “You’re going to go broke on that kid,” he said, watching as the kid practically skipped down the sidewalk. 

“Nah, I already made more than ten times that while we were eating dinner,” Tony said flippantly. Steve gave up and laughed outright. 

As they walked home, the sky began to let loose a fresh flurry of snowflakes. 

“Tony!” Steve gasped as the snow fell all around them. “Look at it!”

“It’s like he’s never seen snow before,” Tony said sardonically before turning back toward Steve. “Weren’t you stuck in the Arctic, buried beneath literal feet of snow and ice for seventy years?” he asked. 

Steve stuck his tongue out at Tony as he lowered the tree to the ground. “Shut up,” he said.

“What are you doing?” Tony asked, a frown on his face. “You know we gotta get that tree home, right?”

Steve rolled his eyes. That must be some kind of record, but he couldn’t seem to stop rolling them in Tony’s presence. Knowing Tony, he was probably counting.

“Do you want a hot chocolate or not?” Steve asked, cocking his head toward a vendor next to him. “It’s tradition.” 

He had started the tradition out of the blue one year when the first snow began to fall on the city. and felt the itch to be out in it. He had grabbed anybody that would come, taking them all out to get hot chocolates and play in the snow. 

“I missed the first snowfall of the year, but this is the first one since I’ve been home,” Steve explained with a slight shrug, paying for two hot chocolates and passing one to Tony.

Tony stared at the cup for a moment, then cast an amused look up at Steve. “This has got to be the worst tradition of them all,” he said, even as he took a sip. 

Steve coughed a surprised laugh as he took a sip of his own, then grimaced down at the cup. It tasted vile, more like slightly flavored water than chocolate. “You might be right, but still.” He shot Tony a wink, taking another sip, appreciating Tony’s slightly flustered response.

The snow fell around them, gathering on their coats, the tree, and Tony’s hair. Steve wanted to reach out and brush it away, to dig the tips of his fingers deep into Tony’s hair like it practically begging Steve to. Thankfully, Steve’s hands were full with holding the tree upright and the warm cup. 

They drank their hot chocolate in silence, watching other New Yorkers pass them by, some of them exclaiming at the sight of more snow, others disgruntled by it. Tony made a few observational comments that made Steve laugh out loud, even as he made a few observations of his own, trying to make Tony laugh. It was comfortable. Easy. Like it had been before. 

Only not. 

Steve watched as Tony laughed, his face relaxing into mirth, his lips wide, showing off bright, straight teeth. His eyes, which had looked at Steve with such anger and hurt not even twenty-four hours before, now glittered with amusement. The tip of his nose was pink, making Steve want to bend down and nip at it with his lips. 

All too soon, their cups were empty and it was time to head back. 

Tony held a hand out for Steve’s cup before making his way over to the trash can and tossing them. Steve lifted the tree once again. 

“No more stops?” Tony asked, eyebrows raised. “No more false alarms? Are we allowed to pass Go? Collect that two-hundred dollars?”

Steve chuckled. “Not if you keep sassing me.”

“Me? I never sass,” Tony said, face straight, solemn. He even placed a hand over his heart. 

“Could have fooled me,” Steve said. 

If Steve walked a little slower on the journey home, he blamed it on carrying their tree. Though he knew Tony would know better. And if he was being completely honest with himself, he could admit that he didn’t want the night to end. 

What would happen after this? Surely one good night out together wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between them. 

Though it might be a beginning.

As if Tony knew what Steve was thinking, he stopped, just a block from the mansion. Steve stopped beside him, his eyes flicking to the familiar gate in front of the property. 

“Steve,” Tony began, turning toward Steve. He gave Steve a genuine smile, one that Steve hadn’t seen before the Sokovia Accords fiasco. “Thank you for this. I, uh,” Tony cleared his throat, smile faltering. “It was nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” Steve said, feeling hope bloom in his chest, bright and warm. “We’ll do it again.”

Tony frowned, just enough for that line between his eyebrows to come back. Steve resisted the ridiculous urge to smooth it away with his fingers. “Uh, well, um,” Tony stammered. 

“We are doing this again, Tony,” Steve said, grasping onto that hope with both hands. It was already beginning to fade away with Tony’s hesitation. He knew, he _knew_ that Tony was trying to erect those stupid walls around him again. Steve wouldn’t let it happen. “I had a good time. I think we both learned some things about how to talk to each other, too. Let’s not forget that.”

Tony’s mouth snapped shut, his face stern. Then he nodded. The easy, happy look he had had earlier on his face was gone, but Steve could still see a twinkle in his eyes, and a softening to the line of his shoulders.

“Good. Let’s get this thing inside.”

As Steve and Tony made their way inside the house, the rest of the Avengers gathered in the living room, boxes and boxes of decorations scattered on every available surface. Tony froze inside the foyer for just a moment before trying to make a hasty excuse and retreat down to his workshop. 

Steve caught Tony’s hand before he could run, taking a moment to experience the strong warmth of it, accented with calluses. Tony’s eyes met his. 

“Don’t run, please. Stay. We want you to stay.” Steve whispered it, trying to make Tony understand how important this was to them. To him.

Steve released his breath when Tony gave a slight nod, then turned to the rest of the group. He plastered on his grin and clapped his hands together. “Who wants eggnog and brandy?”

A chorus of agreement rose in the air and Steve turned to wrestle the tree in place with Thor, smiling to himself.

Things were looking up.


	9. Corn for Popping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward, two steps back. Tony is determined to erect those walls once again. And then an old friend arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this didn't get posted yesterday. Lots of holiday things catching up to me and that means this chapter might be a little rougher than usual. I'm throwing a party tonight (why do I do this to myself?), but I plan on having another chapter ready tomorrow night for you. I probably won't have one on Christmas Day, but then I'll pick up the daily updates right after again.
> 
> (Side note: We're over 30K words now. And if you all remember way back in Chapter 1, I estimated about 60K. I think it's going to be longer than that now. Oops. This means this story will be continuing well into the new year.)
> 
> Also, this is where the story clearly deviates from cannon, in that *spoilers if you haven't seen Thor: Ragnarok* Bruce didn't go missing on some mysterious junk planet for two years. 
> 
> All mistakes are still mine. Enjoy!

Tony gasped for air as he bolted upright in his bed. The sheets pooled around his waist as he slumped with relief, cradling his head in his hands. Darkness surrounded him, suffocating him. 

“FRIDAY,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “Lights to twenty-five percent.”

The lights recessed into the edges of the ceiling brightened gradually, casting a warm glow in the room. 

Tony shivered as sweat dripped down the length of his spine, trying to focus only on his breathing. He tracked the pattern on the sheets, mentally counting the number of tiny dots as his eyes passed over them. Anything to prevent him from thinking about the image of Steve raising that shield overhead, ready to slam it down into Tony’s chest.

Sometime yesterday evening, Tony had begun to believe that he could do this, that he could forgive Steve, move on from what had happened in Siberia. Steve had made it seem so easy. Like all it would take was to go have dinners at old diners and play chess and drink shitty hot chocolate together in the snow. 

New flash: It wouldn’t. 

“Christ,” Tony muttered, rubbing his hands roughly over his face. 

He had almost fallen for it. Steve’s boyish charms were not any less potent with the beard in place. In fact, that stupid beard might have made things worse. It had been intoxicating to try and get Steve to laugh, to watch those bright blue eyes sparkle with amusement. 

But Tony remembered all too clearly what those same eyes looked like when Steve had smashed his shield into the arc reactor. 

And what was all that bullshit he had been sprouting to Steve about them talking to each other? Communication? That they should try it? Tony huffed a disbelieving laugh. He had clearly been placed under some sort of spell last night. He should corner Thor and see if he knew the whereabouts of his dear brother, Loki. 

Tony shook his head, clearing the last remnants of the dream away. In reality, what happened last night had probably been a combination of the sleep deprivation and all the emotions of having everybody back after so long apart. The holidays were always a shit time for him. Why would he expect this one to be any different?

Tony threw his legs over the side of the bed, resting the flat of his feet against the cold hardwood. There was nothing for it but to start his day. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. Not tonight. The next best thing was to bury himself in work. 

After a bracing shower, where Tony ran through some of the more embarrassing shit he had done last night (did he seriously volunteer to make everyone eggnog and brandy?), Tony jumped into a pair of jeans, his favorite Chucks, a black tank top, and a red Spider-Man zip-up hoodie Rhodey had ordered for him after all the dust had settled. It had made Tony laugh. He made a mental note to send a car to collect the kid and his aunt on Christmas for what would undoubtedly be the most awkward and uncomfortable family dinner in the country. 

Halfway to the elevator, Tony remembered that he didn’t have a coffee pot in the workshop at the moment. He mentally moved DUM-E’s diagnostic to the first thing on today’s agenda and made his way to the stairs. 

The staircase flanked the edge of the main living room, sweeping down one side, giving the person walking down the stairs the perfect vantage point. Tony frowned at the soft glowing light reflecting off the wall before looking down and seeing the TV on with two occupants cuddled together on the couch. 

Coulson lay reclined against the arm of the couch, eyes transfixed on the TV which was showing what looked like a Hallmark Christmas movie. On top of him, curled up on his side was Clint, arms wrapped around Coulson’s waist, as though afraid Coulson would disappear again. Tony couldn’t blame him. Though the position seemed rather intimate, even for Clint. Tony frowned. Didn’t Clint have a wife and kids? He had met them. Clint should be with them. Why the hell was Clint even here? 

Tony must have stood there watching them for too long because the next thing he knew, Coulson began speaking. 

“You think too loudly,” he complained in a hushed tone. 

“Sorry for interrupting your annual dose of Christmas Cheese. Did you even get a serving last year? Are you making up for it this year?” Tony moved down the rest of the stairs. “Just grabbing some coffee, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

Tony ignored the Christmas tree looming ominously in the corner of the living room as he passed by.

Glowering, Tony slammed his way through the coffee prep, not caring if he was being quiet enough for Clint and Coulson. He made another mental note to check if his new coffee machine was on schedule to be delivered today.

“Try banging that cupboard a little louder next time. You might actually succeed in cracking it,” came Coulson’s dry comment from behind. 

Tony didn’t bother with a reply, instead, focusing all his attention on the poor coffee machine. He had made sure to remember the filter this time and now it was slowly brewing. It was painful how slow it was.

“Let me guess,” Coulson said, making his way toward Tony, coming to a stop just a few feet away from him. He leaned back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. “Nightmare.”

“Isn’t Clint going to miss his pillow?” Tony asked, trying to change the subject. 

“Bullseye,” Coulson murmured. Tony chanced a glance up at him, expecting to see pity. What he saw instead was something closer to understanding. Tony hastily glanced away. “You know, you’re not the only one that has nightmares in this house.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Tony growled. He was tempted to unplug the machine and take it with him. But that would mean Natasha and Clint would be coming after him later, and he wanted that even less than he wanted this conversation. 

“It’s why Clint and I were up late watching movies,” Coulson continued, as though he were having a conversation over tea. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Tony paused, then cast another look at Coulson. His offer seemed genuine and that made Tony’s skin crawl just a little more. 

“No, thank you,” Tony said, turning back to the coffee. 

“Then I guess we should go ahead and talk about the Sokovia Accords.” Coulson’s tone left no room for argument. 

Tony groaned, bracing himself on his hands as he leaned forward onto the counter. “Phil. It’s three in the morning. I just had a flashback, I’m exhausted, I’m pretty sure I’m losing my mind, and I haven’t even had a cup of coffee yet. Your timing, as always, is goddamn impeccable.” 

“Glad that hasn’t changed, at least,” Coulson said, tone pleasant yet stern. Tony didn’t have to look up to know the man sported that easy half smile. He wondered if Coulson practiced that in the mirror.

“Tell me about Clint first,” Tony demanded, taking a shot in the dark. Hopefully Coulson wouldn’t want to talk about it and then they would be an impasse. 

“Not going to work on me, Stark,” Coulson said. 

“Worth a shot.” Tony leaned back, checking status of the coffee. It was almost done. Just a little longer and then he was free. 

The sound of coffee dripping filled the room, along with its rich aroma. Tony reached into the cupboard above, searching for the largest Thermos he had. 

Like hell would he be sharing this batch with anyone.

Coulson sighed. “What do you want to know?”

Tony resisted the urge to point and shout “ha!” at the man, but it was a near thing. He bit his tongue for a moment before he proceeded. “Isn’t he married?”

“He was,” Coulson said, his tone low. “Once Laura caught wind that he had been locked up on the Raft and was considered a dangerous fugitive, she told him he wasn’t allowed to come near her or the kids.”

Tony turned fully to Coulson, coffee forgotten. His stomach felt hallowed out, as though someone had gone in there and scraped the lining with a spoon, leaving nothing but sharp twinges of pain behind.

“So, the Accords,” Coulson continued. “We need to discuss.”

“Listen, I know they’re flawed,” Tony said, turning back to the coffee, which had thankfully finished percolating. He poured it into the Thermos and screwed the lid shut.

“Damn right, they’re flawed. What were you thinking?” Coulson demanded, his voice growing harsh, as though he had finally lost the last bit of patience he had. 

“You know that is the way of things. The powers that be sign something into effect, then they spend years amending it. It was a temporary Band-Aid on a much bigger problem.”

“You say that like you believe anybody would have amended it,” Coulson snapped. 

“They would have,” Tony damn near yelled. “I would have made sure of that and you know it.”

“You can’t and won’t always be there to make sure things go smoothly, Stark.”

“Clearly!” Tony yelled. Then he backed off, realizing that he had been crowding Coulson into the counter. Instead of being afraid, though, Coulson looked like he almost enjoyed it. Like he had just made his point.

Tony sighed. “What’s your agenda here, Coulson? Who are you fighting for? The Avengers? Clint? Steve? Or the rest of the world?”

“Everyone, Tony,” he said, his voice soft. Tired. 

“Well, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over this last year, is that you can’t please everyone.”

With that, Tony grabbed his Thermos and stormed out of the kitchen. FRIDAY, always two steps ahead of him, had the elevator ready and waiting for him. He punched the basement level button for no other reason than to have something to take his frustrations out on. 

What the hell was Coulson trying to get at? Of course Tony had tried to reason with everyone. He had begged. It had been one of the few times he had truly pulled out all the stops to convince others that the Accords was the right way to move forward. It was never his goal to go out and hurt any of his team members. He didn’t actually wish for more than half of them to be wanted fugitives, for them to lose their homes, their wives, children. 

The elevator doors swished open and Tony stalked into the workshop, lights blazing at his entrance. 

“Rise and shine, everybody. We got work to do.” Tony placed his Thermos down on the workbench and swung around until he spotted the familiar metal arm. “DUM-E. Front and center.”

Hours passed in a blink of an eye. Rhodey had stopped by at some point that morning, only to be ignored by Tony who had strategically buried himself inside a piece of machinery he had given up on. He didn’t even remember what it had been before, but it had been the only thing big enough other than one of his suits he could hide half of his body inside. Then the coffee machine had been delivered, which Tony set up with great fanfare.

Despite arguing with himself, and telling himself that he really shouldn’t, that it was just another symptom of his momentary lapse of judgement, Tony found himself beginning to design the schematics for a replacement robotic arm. What he wouldn’t give for a chance to look at the old arm. The one he had blown away with a repulsor blast. But could they even blame him for that? The last time somebody had wrenched the arc reactor out of his chest didn’t leave the best of memories. Granted, the arc reactor wasn’t imbedded in his chest anymore, but in the heat of battle, it all felt the same. It was still a part of him.

“Sir, you have another new arrival,” FRIDAY announced. 

Tony resisted the urge to bang his head on the top of his workbench. He’d had enough of visitors lately. 

“Who is it?” he asked, already saving and closing his work. 

“Dr. Banner,” FRIDAY said. And even Tony could tell she sounded pleased. 

“Oh, thank God,” Tony said, feeling relief and happiness rush through him. “Do I need to go up there? Could you show him down? I should probably go up there.”

Tony ran his hands through his hair as he left the workshop and entered the elevators. He caught a glimpse of himself in the chrome doors. His jeans were stained, his hair stood up on all ends, and he had all kinds of dirt marks on his face from diving head first into unknown machines. Tony considered bypassing the foyer and heading straight for his suite, right to the shower. But before he could make the decision, the elevator slowed and the doors opened. 

The scene that greeted Tony was almost identical to the one when Steve and Barnes had arrived, only Bruce stood in the center of all the commotion. He looked tired, even more disheveled than usual, and not for the first time did Tony wonder where on earth he had been these last few months. Even Tony had found the task of finding Bruce impossible.

Tony stood apart from the group, not wanting to be noticed until he could make a clean escape, hopefully with Bruce in tow. He watched as Bruce received a long hug from Clint, handshakes from Steve and Thor. He gaped at Coulson and exchanged nods with pretty much everyone else. Tony smirked as he watched Bruce’s eyes widen at the sight of Barnes, then offered the man what Tony believed was a “please, don’t kill me” smile. 

But it was Natasha that eventually caught Bruce’s eye, much to Tony’s consternation. She had stood back, apart from the group, leaning against a wall with her arms crossed over her chest, her face carefully blank. Tony knew something had been going on between them before he had disappeared after Sokovia, but it was anybody’s guess what. 

Tony watched as Bruce seemed to stop all motion, eyes focused solely on her. Tony could identify the yearning in his face, the sadness, the heartache. The fear. Of what, rejection? Or acceptance? Yes, that was it. 

And though Natasha’s face remained passive, Tony noticed the tension in her back. He could practically see her hidden fingers pinching the inside of her arm. Whether or not she was actually doing that didn’t matter, the intent was there. And her eyes fairly glittered, though Tony couldn’t tell if it was happiness or anger.

Either way, Tony didn’t envy Bruce one bit.

Tony wondered if he could sneak away before Bruce noticed him, let Bruce get reacquainted with everyone first. Especially Natasha. He didn’t want Natasha killing him because he hogged the one man she might actually care for.

“Tony!” Bruce cried, forcing his way through the group, straight for him. 

Too late now.

“Brucie-bear! Where the hell have you been? You know, you’re harder to find than Waldo, though really, it’s not that hard to find Waldo.” He was rambling. He plastered on a smile, which wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be. “Come down to the shop. You left me hanging on our biomechanical experiment so that’s pretty much scrapped, but we can start it over.”

“I’m not sure having the two of you alone in your workshop together again is such a good idea,” Coulson cautioned. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “We learned our lesson, Dad. It won’t happen again. Come on, Bruce. Workshop.”

“Don’t you think Bruce might want some rest?” Natasha asked, not moving from her spot.

To Tony, though Bruce looked tired, rest seemed like the last thing Bruce wanted. There was a glint in the eyes, a tension in his shoulders that spoke of him wanting a distraction. And Tony was excellent at providing distraction.

“How about I show him his room and he can decide for himself?” Tony said, sending an icy smile toward Natasha. 

He didn’t know what to think of her. On one hand, she had been pretty firm in her belief that their apologizing to each other wouldn’t fix their friendship. Tony still felt raw over that. On the other hand, she had seemed much warmer, as warm as Natasha could get, toward him last night when he had made everyone eggnog and brandy. As though she knew something she wasn’t supposed to know. And now, with whatever was brewing between her and Bruce, he felt like he needed to protect the one person who hadn’t double-crossed him in the last six months.

In the end, the rest of the team dispersed after Natasha leveled a long look at Tony. Tony guided Bruce up the stairs on the opposite side of the living room. 

“That’s some tree you got there,” he murmured, looking up at it. 

“I think it could be taller, but that was the best they had.” Tony shrugged and jogged up the stairs, eager to get away from Steve and those pretty blue eyes that kept watching his every move.

“Did you and Steve get it?” Bruce asked. 

Tony nearly tripped over a stair. “Uh, yeah.” Tony rubbed at his chest. “This way. Sorry, most of the good rooms are taken but I do have a secret room that nobody else knows about.” He gave Bruce a saucy wink before rushing toward one of the doors down the corridor. 

“A not-so-secret room?” Bruce commented dryly, entering the room behind Tony. 

The room was a library, lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves and filled with natural lighting. A large mahogany desk took up the majority of one side of the room, while a large couch faced the windows overlooking the gardens to the back. 

“A library?” Bruce asked. Tony snickered at the unimpressed tone. 

“Live a little.” Tony wandered toward the bookshelves to the left side of the room, pulling out one of the books. “This is your key,” he explained before the entire shelf recessed into the wall and slid to one side.

It revealed a small but comfortable room. There were windows here, too, bathing the queen sized bed draped in white linens in more light. A en-suite bathroom boasted of a shower, toilet, and sink. 

“If you want a bath, just say the word and you can use mine,” Tony offered as Bruce looked around the room. “I know it’s a little cramped, but I figured the library might make up for it.”

“It sure beats a hut in India,” Bruce murmured. “What’s the story behind a room like this?” Bruce asked, placing his frighteningly small duffle on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed. 

“I never got a clear answer on that one,” Tony said on a sigh, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking around the room. “My mother said she would use it for naps. I like to think dear ol’ Dad might have had a mistress or two in here.” Tony shrugged. “But the reality is that they both probably just wanted a place to get away without being disturbed. There are other rooms like this in the house, one off the billiard room and another off of Dad’s old office.”

“Fascinating. Some people just leave the house if they need to be alone. Not hide themselves further in. What a completely different way to live.”

Tony tried not to look to much into that statement. 

“So, do you like it?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, I do,” Bruce said, his lips giving a quick upturn. “So, wanna tell me what’s going on between you and Steve?”

Tony drew to a halt in front of the window and glared at Bruce over one shoulder. “Only if you want to tell me about you and Natasha.”

Bruce’s eyes darkened, his mouth turning into a slight frown before he turned away. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Glad we’re in agreement, then,” Tony said. Then, because curiosity always got the better of him, “How did you know we were here? What made you decide to come back?”

Bruce remained silent for a long time, so long that Tony thought he might have purposefully been ignoring the question.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on things,” Bruce hedged. Tony’s eyes widened. 

“You’ve been spying on me?” he teased, turning around to face Bruce. He could feel his mouth stretch into a smile.

Bruce shook his head and laughed in a self-depreciating manner. “Stupid, huh? I hate everything that I am. I don’t deserve anything you guys have given me. I didn’t want the Other Guy to make things worse for you, not with the Accords and all that. I wanted to be away, and yet I couldn’t look away.”

Tony bit his tongue to keep silent.

“I saw everybody returning and realized I had missed some sort of memo. I intended on ignoring it, anyway,” Bruce said. “It was Steve that figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” Tony asked before he could stop himself.

“How I was watching you guys. Maybe my methods got a little… sloppy,” Bruce shrugged. “And before you ask, I’m not telling you. But Steve has always been too observant for his own good. He figured it out within a couple of hours. Sent me a message through my own network.”

“What did he say?”

Bruce went silent again. Tony couldn’t keep silent this time. 

“Never mind. It’s not important. You’re here now, and –” Tony began.

“He said you needed me.” Bruce’s voice was so quiet that Tony wasn’t sure he’d heard the words correctly at first. And then they sunk in and Tony didn’t understand the ache that pulled, just behind his stomach. It stole his breath. The room tilted sickeningly. 

He wanted to find Steve and yell at him for meddling. And he also wanted to yank Steve into his arms and kiss him until they both were desperate for air. 

Tony settled for clenching his fists. 

“Look,” Bruce said, meeting Tony’s eyes. “Whatever is going on between you two, I know he means well.”

“I thought we weren’t talking about this,” Tony snapped. 

“We’re not. This is us, not talking about it.” Bruce held his hands up. “How about we not talk in the workshop?”

Relief flooded Tony and he grinned. “Oh, I’ve missed you, Banner.”


	10. Painted Candy Canes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony has done his disappearing act. Steve is beside himself. Then a big moment happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I know I promised daily updates. Then I got a migraine. Those leave me upside down for days. I managed to squeeze this out, and I hope it doesn't disappoint. Already working on the next chapter, though I'm on a mini-vacation with the hubby, so I don't think it'll be posted for another day or so. 
> 
> I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and Happy New Year!
> 
> All mistakes are still mine. Enjoy!

Steve POV  
***

Steve threw Natasha onto the floor before attempting to straddle her. Unfortunately, she had always been too fast for him and swiped his legs out from under him before he could advance further. As he tumbled to the floor, Steve used his momentum to flip into a handstand and away from her. He could hear Bucky whoop and cheer from the edge of the room. 

“Getting a little slow, old man,” Natasha teased as she pushed herself up to her feet. 

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Steve shot back before rushing her again. 

They danced around the floor, ducking and weaving and feinting. Natasha got lucky with a few punches, and Steve managed to keep her at bay more often than not. But it kept his mind occupied at least, which was the goal.

Steve hadn’t seen Tony since he had locked himself away with Bruce in the workshop three days ago. It was enough to drive Steve crazy. He thought that things were starting to mend between them, that their friendship could actually survive everything that had happened. But then Tony pulled the disappearing act and Steve realized that Tony didn’t feel the same. Steve contemplated going down there, breaking his promise of not entering the workshop just to shake some sense into the man, demand that they talk, but he knew that would only make things worse.

Instead, Steve distracted himself by cooking meals, helping the rest of the team decorate the house, and working out. Clint had discovered the gym on the opposite end of the house, small by Avenger standards, but it would do. Steve quickly found out that the punching bags were the ones he’d used back in the Tower, reinforced by Tony’s genius. Steve tried to not look into it more than he should. Tony probably kept them only because they were handy to have, not because he had hoped Steve would be coming back.

The tree remained undecorated, as though through unspoken agreement that the team should wait until Tony joined them. But the rest of the house looked more cheerful with the addition of strategically placed nutcrackers, holly, and mistletoe. Steve was pretty sure Natasha and Coulson had arranged the little village of houses on the sideboard in the dining room, which lit up with a touch of a button. The Avengers’ stockings lined the fireplace mantel in the living room, gifts from Tony a couple of years ago. Each stocking had the personalized PR approved logo for that individual Avenger with their code name embroidered along the top. Steve noticed with growing interest a new one along the line that was bright red with a white spider-web that simply said “Spidey” along the top. Steve assumed that was for the kid who had taken his shield from him during their scrimmage at the airport. He couldn’t wait to meet him in person, under more civilized circumstances.

A blow to the ribs had Steve stumbling and rolling onto the floor. He heard Bucky snorting. 

“Get your head out of the clouds,” Natasha snapped. “Or are you ready to admit that you can’t stop thinking about Tony?”

Steve rushed her, tackling her like a lineman. 

Natasha wrapped her legs around Steve’s waist, high enough so when she squeezed those powerful thighs, Steve had trouble breathing. He released her and they both sprang up to their feet.

“I wasn’t thinking about Tony,” he lied, knowing even as he said it, Natasha wouldn’t believe him. 

It was Bucky who laughed outright, even as Natasha’s lips quirked upward. 

“Nice try,” she said before sending a roundhouse kick toward his head. It was lazy enough that Steve could have dodged it blindfolded. “Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?”

Steve goggled at her for a moment before she snapped into action. He didn’t even catch what she did, but suddenly he was on his back, breathless, staring at the ceiling. Natasha sat on top of him. He could have easily pushed her away, but Steve laid there, head spinning, heart pounding. 

“Do about what?” he asked when he gained some of his breath back. 

Natasha rolled her eyes and swatted his shoulder. “Don’t insult me again,” she warned. 

Steve held up his hands. Then he shrugged, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth downward. “There’s nothing I can do. He’s holed up in his workshop with Banner and I promised I wouldn’t go down there.”

Natasha bit off a sharp sounding curse in Russian even as she flicked Steve’s forehead. “Well, duh. And if you cannot go down there, then he must come up here, yes?”

Steve nodded dumbly. 

“So,” she continued tilting her head to one side, “what are you going to do to get him up here?”

Anger flared deep in Steve’s gut. He glared at Natasha. “He’s ignoring me. I’ve let him know when dinner was ready, I asked both him and Banner to come up for meals, but he just sends Banner to fetch food for the both of them and they eat in the workshop. I’ve also asked Tony if he’d like to come up and help decorate the tree, and he hasn’t responded. What else am I supposed to do? He obviously doesn’t want anything to do with me and it’s unfair of me to be pushy about it.” 

“Have you talked to Bruce?” she asked. 

Steve hesitated. “Not in so many words,” he admitted. “Kind of awkward to bring that up now, don’t you think?”

Natasha sighed and got up off of Steve. She extended a hand down to him, which he took before hauling himself upright. 

“Talk to him. I think you’ll find him helpful.” With that, she turned and strode toward the exit. 

Steve stood there glaring long after the door shut behind her. 

“She’s got a point,” Bucky said, startling Steve. He had forgotten he was there. 

“I know, but I don’t have to like it,” Steve muttered. 

Bucky laughed, approaching Steve and slapping a hand on one shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up. It’s almost time for dinner. We can come up with what to tell Banner before then.”

Steve followed Bucky out of the gym silently, stewing over Natasha’s comments.

He knew she was right. Any chance Steve had to get Tony out of his workshop rested on Banner. But he also couldn’t get his hopes up that Banner would be willing to be Steve’s wingman. 

And didn’t that just grind his gears a little bit? Having to depend on another to help in something so personal. Banner would no doubt want to know what was going on before he would agree to help and Steve didn’t know just how much information he felt comfortable disclosing. 

By nature, Steve was a private person. Even back before the war, back before he became Captain America, Steve kept to himself, not sharing his deepest secrets with anybody. Bucky found them out anyway, and usually had a great time getting Steve to blush all the different shades of red. That at least hadn’t changed much. 

“I can hear you thinking,” Bucky said as they walked down the hall toward the living room and staircase. “And I hate to tell you this, but literally everyone in this house knows about your situation with Tony except Tony himself. If Banner hasn’t figured it out by now, it’s because he’s been stuck in that workshop with Tony this whole time.”

Steve felt the heat rush to his face despite all attempts to stop it. “I should have stayed in Wakanda,” he muttered under his breath, glaring at the bare tree in the living room as they passed it.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Bucky said, taking the stairs two at a time. “Now, what are you going to say to Banner?”

“Shoot me?” Steve said, opening up his eyes nice and wide. The picture of innocence.

Bucky shot him a look. “No. Try again.”

Steve sighed, shoulders slumped. Then he winced. “The truth, I guess. Like you said, everyone else already knows.”

“Well, what’s your game plan? Do you want Banner to bring Tony up for dinner?”

Steve nodded, latching onto the idea. “Yeah. Dinner, then decorating the tree. With everyone.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, no doubt to argue against the idea that everyone join them. 

“Yes, with everyone,” Steve continued, voice firm. “I don’t want to scare Tony away. And everyone else needs to be spending time with him, too.”

“Fine,” Bucky said. “But we reserve the right to clear out.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t think that’ll be necessary. It’s not like he’s going to be tripping over himself to be near me.”

“He might,” Bucky said, sending Steve a saucy wink. “Have you seen yourself lately?”

Steve laughed even as he shoved Bucky aside. “Keep laughing at me. See where it gets you.”

***

Steve managed to corner Bruce that afternoon as he was heading back downstairs. After a brief and highly embarrassing conversation with the scientist, Steve bolted into the safety of the kitchen to plan dinner. If it was subsequently one of Tony’s favorite dishes, nobody needed to know why (though everybody did, it turned out).

Bruce hadn’t committed one way or the other to Tony’s presence during dinner and for decorating the tree. But Steve had seen the man make a passing comment about The Other Guy making an unwanted appearance if Bruce didn’t get his way, so Steve was holding out hope that Tony would come upstairs. 

That just left Steve to try and figure out what he was going to say to Tony when he did arrive. 

Steve layered lasagna noodles, meat sauce, and cheese inside the dish as he thought. It was clear that Tony wanted distance and if Steve was aggressive enough, Tony might turn tail and run again. So, what could Steve do to help convince Tony that they should talk? 

Nothing. Steve shook his head. He couldn’t think of anything. 

Soon enough, Steve slid two pans of lasagna into the oven. He prepped the garlic bread (four loaves!) and began to slice up vegetables for the salad. It wasn’t long before the rich aroma of lasagna began to fill the kitchen, drawing the others into the room. 

“Smells good, Steve,” Clint said cheerfully, grabbing a beer from the fridge and hopping onto one of the barstools at the opposite counter.

“Yes, yum,” Wanda added, taking the stool next to Clint. Steve sent her a warm smile. He hadn’t had much of a chance to catch up with her yet, and he made a note to rectify that. 

More people wondered into the kitchen, curiosity and hunger luring them in. Steve put them to work, having them set the table and put the food out as it finished. Vision showed the others where the leaves of the table were kept, which made the table just long enough to seat all of them, though elbow room was tight.

They sat and dished up, two spots conspicuously empty. Steve was just about to give up hope when he heard the elevator doors swish open and Tony’s whiny complaints reached his ears, still too soft for anybody else to notice. 

“But Brucie, I don’t see why you couldn’t just bring me down a plate again. You know why I can’t come up here. And really, decorating the tree? Who even does that anymore? Didn’t I hire somebody to do that yet?” A pause. “Oh, God. He made lasagna. Bruce, please, I’m begging you. Don’t make me do this.”

“Tony,” Bruce said on a sigh. “The Other Guy.”

“You know, one of these days, I’m going to call your bluff,” Tony said, tone petulant. 

Steve stopped dishing up his food, his appetite suddenly gone. In its place, a hallow pit lived, gnawing away at his spine. He knew he shouldn’t have pushed the issue. He should have let Tony stay downstairs, let him avoid the issue for as long as he wanted. Hell, Steve probably should have just packed up and left by now. Lord knew why he had stayed this long.

“Steve?” It was Sam, looking at him with concerned filled eyes. Steve forced a smile and passed the garlic bread his way. Same gave him a look that clearly said they weren’t done with their non-existent conversation, but he would drop it for now.

Then Tony entered the room and all motion ceased. Both Sam and Bucky shot matching looks toward Steve, and Steve wanted nothing more than to sink through the floor. 

_Way to be obvious, guys._

He was honestly surprised when Tony took the seat opposite Steve and began to dish up without comment. But he wasn’t surprised when Tony didn’t even look his way. Not once. 

Steve took the opportunity to look his fill. 

Tony looked exhausted. The bags under his eyes were dark and bigger than he had ever seen them. It looked like he had at least washed his face and hands, though his hair stood on end in every direction. Steve could smell the sweat, oil, and metal coming from his direction, a warm aroma that lit up every one of Steve’s nerve endings. He wanted to bury himself in Tony. But he couldn’t.

Conversation gradually started around the table again, with the occasional praise for Steve’s cooking resounding around the table. 

“Tony, decorate the tree with us,” Natasha said, not really posing it as a question. Steve watched as shock filtered over Tony’s face before he nodded without a word. 

Dinner seemed to take forever and fly by at the same time. Steve forced himself to eat, though if anybody noticed it was less than his usual intake, they didn’t mention anything. He didn’t have much if anything to contribute to the conversation, though being seated next to Wanda made it possible to catch up with her. She hadn’t said much about what she had been up to over the last six months, but the way she kept looking over to Vision on her other side spoke volumes. Steve felt happy for her.

Bucky kept shooting Steve concerned glances, and making pointed gestures to Tony. Steve ignored him, feeling for all the world like a man who had missed his chance. What would be the point of talking to Tony now after what he had heard?

The second dinner was over, Steve began to gather dishes and take them to the kitchen. It would be better to hide behind the sudsy water than to try to keep up a cheerful demeanor while everybody decorated the tree. 

And it would give Tony the space he needed to bond with the others.

“What are you doing hiding out in here?” Bucky asked about ten minutes later when Steve was elbow deep in hot soapy water. He had shooed everyone away despite their protests. He practically had to order Sam away. 

“Dishes need doing,” Steve said with a light shrug. He scrubbed fiercely at a plate that was already spotless. 

“And why didn’t you let anybody else do them so you could be out there with Tony?” he asked, leaning a hip up against the counter next to Steve. 

Steve clenched his jaw shut. He needed to stop this, stop talking to everybody about his issues. He needed to let it go and move on. 

“Uh oh,” Bucky groaned, low. “I know that look. That’s the patented ‘Steve Rogers doesn’t want to talk about it’ look.”

Steve shot Bucky a glare out of the corner of his eye. 

“What happened?” Bucky asked. “Something happened between cooking dinner and eating dinner and I can’t figure it out.”

It didn’t surprise Steve that Bucky might not have heard Tony when he had exited the elevator earlier. Bucky and Thor had been busy chugging beer at that moment. 

“Just tell me, Steve. You’ll feel better.”

Steve felt the tension seep away. Damn Bucky. “I can’t keep doing this anymore, Buck.” To his further embarrassment, he felt tears burn behind his eyes. He clenched his fists against the edge of the sink to fight them away.

“What happened to ‘I just need him to talk to me’?” Bucky asked. 

“I heard everything I needed to,” Steve said, picking up the casserole dish and scrubbing at the burnt edges the lasagna had left behind. 

“When?” 

“When they arrived. I heard the elevator and then heard Tony complaining.” Steve scrubbed a little too harshly, spraying soap and water down the front of his shirt. “Shit.”

Bucky picked up a dishtowel and dabbed at Steve’s shirt. “What did he say?”

“He said that he didn’t understand why Bruce was making him come upstairs. He begged,” Steve’s voice broke. He swallowed hard. “Tony begged Bruce to let him leave.”

Silence met his words. Steve finished washing the dishes, letting the hurt throb. He would let it ache enough to remind him that he didn’t need this. That Tony didn’t need this. And then it would be over. 

He drained the sink before turning to Bucky and taking the dishtowel from his hand. “I think you should join the others and finish decorating that tree. I’m going to go upstairs.”

“What, and be a coward?” Bucky snapped. He wasn’t angry, Steve knew Bucky better than that. He knew Bucky was just trying to get a rise out of Steve, challenge him into action. 

“If that’s what Tony needs, then yeah,” Steve said.

“That’s bullshit, Rogers,” Bucky growled. Then he stalked out of the kitchen. 

Steve watched him go, wishing he could go after him, follow him to where the rest of the team no doubt were debating the best way to string lights on the tree or best ornament placement. Steve usually popped a large bowl of popcorn and headed out with a needle and thread to string it while the others wrestled with and untangled the lights. But that wouldn’t happen this year. 

Without a backwards glance, Steve strode out of the kitchen and dining room area, heading straight for the elevators in the opposite direction of the living room and tree. With any luck, nobody would notice him leaving.

Steve didn’t let go of the air he’d been holding until the doors closed behind him. Then he bent his head and squeezed his eyes shut. 

“It’ll be okay, Rogers,” he whispered. “You’ve survived worse.”

And he had. He kept forgetting that, but he had. He had survived losing Peggy, losing Bucky and the Commandos. And he had survived losing Tony before. He could do it again.

The elevator drew to a halt on his floor. Steve exited blindly, making his way down the hall toward his room. Thankfully, the sun had set long ago, so Steve wouldn’t have to look out at that beautiful view and lose himself to the “what-ifs” of this situation. Maybe he would actually take a bath in that copper tub. It looked big enough for him. And it had been a long time since he had had a bath.

Steve opened his bedroom door, then stopped.

Tony stood in the middle of the room, staring out of the black windows, or staring at Steve’s reflection, Steve couldn’t tell. He held a tumbler half-full of amber liquid and two cubes of ice, which clanked loudly as Tony turned to face Steve.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked. He could have sworn that Tony wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

“You left. Well,” Tony waved a hand in between them. “Barnes said you were leaving. Are you?”

Steve frowned. “Am I what?”

“Leaving.” A blank look settled over Tony’s face.

Leaving? Confusion filled Steve. He left the kitchen, left the living room, left the others to put the tree together. Didn’t Tony want space? Steve was willing to give it to him. Steve hadn’t decided yet if he was going to pack up and head back to Wakanda –

Oh.

A little flicker of hope flared deep within Steve’s chest. 

“I’m not leaving, Tony,” Steve said, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “I just came up here because I didn’t want to push you.”

“Push me? Who said anything about pushing me?” Tony began to walk around the room, unable to stand still, as usual. 

It made Steve’s grin widen. 

“I know coming upstairs was a lot to handle,” Steve said. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable in your own home, Tony. I’m sorry.”

Tony stopped and stared at Steve. Then he shook his head. “This house has always made me feel uncomfortable. That’s not you.”

The confusion returned. “Then why did you beg Banner to let you go back downstairs?” he asked. And immediately wished he hadn’t. 

Tony’s eyes widened. “You heard that?” 

Steve had to look away, feeling that little flame start to extinguish once again. “Yeah.”

“Look, Steve.” Tony walked over to the dresser and placed the glass on its surface. “Look,” he said again. “You know having everybody here is tough for me.”

Steve nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“That’s all I meant by that. I didn’t want to have to look at everyone again. The last time we all got together in a room, I said some mean things. And you let me monologue. There should be a rule against letting another Avenger monologue –”

“Tony,” Steve interrupted. “It’s fine. They’re fine with it. They understand.”

“I know that.” Tony sighed and rubbed his hands over his face and into his hair, disrupting it further. “Okay. Talking. We said we’d try it, right?”

Steve held his breath, but nodded all the same. That little light flickered again in his chest. 

“After we got that stupid tree the other day, I didn’t know what to think. I needed time to process. I had a good time. And I think you did, too, right?” Tony looked to Steve, gaze searching, face open. 

Steve nodded, letting his breath go slowly and giving Tony a soft smile. “I did have a good time. But then you disappeared. For three days, Tony. It was enough to make me wonder if it was too much, too soon. That maybe you didn’t want to see me.”

Tony laughed, making Steve tense. “No. I’m pretty much having the exact opposite problem.”

“What?” Steve asked, frowning down at Tony. When had he gotten so close?

“I only want to see you.” The words were quiet, yet they echoed in the room.

Steve held completely still for a moment, letting the words sink in. Then he moved, stepping forward into Tony’s space. Tony didn’t move back, only lifted his chin higher as though in defiance. Steve lifted a hand up to Tony’s face and grazed the cheek with one finger, smooth around the goatee. He had shaved. Steve could just barely smell the aftershave mixed with the scents of oil and metal. 

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice pitched low. He watched as the pupils in Tony’s already dark eyes flared. 

Taking that as the response he needed, Steve moved his hand to Tony’s neck, pulling Tony closer as he lowered his head. Slightly chapped but warm lips met his, their pressure sending tiny shock waves down his spine. Heat grew in his abdomen. The combined scents of metal, aftershave, and alcohol exploded all around him, but beneath all of that, was the unmistakable scent of Tony. Steve groaned, coaxing Tony’s mouth open with his, wanting more, wanting to taste what smelled so good. 

When Tony parted his lips beneath his, Steve shuddered. The fact that Tony was here, in his room, willingly kissing him, was almost too much to comprehend, despite the fact that he was experiencing it first-hand. Steve’s grip tightened slightly, his other hand moving to Tony’s waist and pulling him even closer to Steve. When he felt Tony sigh into the kiss and a pair of hands clench at the shirt on his back, Steve let loose another moan of pleasure. 

Steve lost himself in Tony, throwing caution to the wind. This might be a fluke and it might be his only chance at kissing Tony before Tony realized what he was doing and shove him away. 

Eventually, Tony drew away, his breath coming in short pants. 

“Jesus, some of us mere humans do need to breathe,” he said, his voice rough. Steve grinned. 

“Sorry.”

“Somehow, I don’t think you are.” Tony looked up at Steve and gave him an answering smile. Then he winced and stepped back. Steve stiffened. “No, don’t worry,” Tony hastily added, somehow noticing Steve’s reaction. Then Tony reached up and pressed a thumb between Steve’s eyebrows, easing the frown he hadn’t realized had formed. “I’m just thinking about how I promised the guys that I’d bring you back downstairs. Though that’s the last thing I want to do right now, trust me.”

Steve relaxed and chuckled. “Well, with a proposition like that, how’s a guy to say no?”

Tony laughed loudly, then made his way over to the dresser and picked up his drink. “Come on. You have popcorn to string.”

“Tony,” Steve began as Tony strode toward the door. Tony cast a glance back at him over one shoulder. “Everything okay between us?”

Steve could see Tony consider the question, which helped ease his mind. Tony was taking this as seriously as he was. 

“We’re getting there,” he said, shooting Steve a wink. “We can do more of that talking stuff when this stupid tree is done.”

“Deal,” Steve said quickly. “Hop to it,” he added, giving Tony a shooing motion. 

“I have never been ‘shooed’ out of a bedroom before in my life,” Tony said, shaking his head as he stepped out into the hallway. 

“A first time for everything,” Steve quipped, falling into step beside him. He watched as Tony slid a look across to him. 

“Yeah. There is.”


End file.
